.-: 


5s«5!*'! 


ft 


LJFE    OF 


THE! 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 


FROM 


THIS  WORLD  TO  THAT  WHICH  IS  TO  COME. 


BY  JOHN  BUN  VAN. 


WITH  A  MEMOIR  OF  THE  AUTHOR, 

CONDENSED  FROM  HIS  "  GRACE  ABOUNDING:'  AND  THE  "LIFE  Oi 
BUNYAN"  BY  CANQN  EDMUN,DS  VENABLES. 


WITH  ONE  HUNDRED  AND  TWENTY-SEVEN  CHOICE  ENGRAVINGS. 

BY 
F.   BARNARD  AND  OTHERS 

AMERICAN  TE^ACT  SOCIETY, 

15O  NASSAU  STREET,  NEW  YORK. 


COPYRIGHT,  1890, 
AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETV- 


f 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


John  Bunyan ,                         Page  3 

Bunyan  in  Prison n 

A  House  in  Elstow • 13 

Elstow  Church 14 

Bronze  Statue,  at  Bedford 23 

Moot  Hall,  Courthouse  and  Manor 26 

Bunyan's  Arrest 29 

Bimyan's  Cottage •        •  35 

Bedford  Gaol ' 36 

Bunyan's  Tomb 39 

"  As  I  slept,  I  dreamed  a  dream  " 46 

"  I  saw  a  man  clothed  with  rags — a  book  in  his  hand  and  a  great  burden  on  his  back  "           ...  54 

HEADING.    The  City  of  Destruction 55 

"  He  brake  his  mind  to  his  wife  and  children  " 56 

"He  retired  himself  to  his  chamber  to  pray  " 57 

"Greatly  distressed  in  his  mind  " 57 

"  Do  you  see  yonder  wicket-gate  ?" 58 

Obstinate 59 

Pliable 60 

"  Christian  still  endeavored  to  struggle  to  that  side  of  the  slough  that  was  farthest  from  his  own  house  "  63 

Mr.  Worldly  Wiseman 64 

"  There  came  a  grave  person  to  the  gate,  named  Goodwill  " 70 

"  The  other  gave  him  a  pull  " 71 

"  They  that  are  with  him  shoot  arrows  " 71 

"  There  sat  a  man  in  an  iron  cage  " 77 

"  Hell  opened  her  mouth  just  where  I  stood  " 79     . 

"The  burden  fell  off  his  back  and  began  to  tumble"      . 80- 

"  He  stood  still  a  while  to  look  and  wonder  " 81 

"Behold,  three  shining  ones  came  to  him  and  saluted  him" 82 

Formalist 83 

Hypocrisy 84 

"  He  fell  and  rose  no  more  " 85 

"  He  fell  from  running  to  going,  and  from  going  to  clambering  on  his  knees  " 86 

"  He  fell  into  a  fast  sleep  " 87 

Timorous 88 

Mistrust 89 

Watchful,  the  porter 9° 

"  The  lions  were  chained,  but  he  saw  not  the  chains  " 91 

"This  man  is  on  a  journey  from  the  City  of  Destruction  to  Mt.  Zion  " 93 

Discourse  about  the  Lord  of  the  hill 96 

''  They  read  to  him  some  of  the  worthy  acts  that  some  of  his  servants  had  done  "  99 


LIST  OF  ILL  USTRA  TIONS. 

"  Apollyon  spread  forth  his  dragon  wings  " Page    103 

to  Him  let  me  give  lasting  praise  " 104 

"  A  compahy^of  fiends  coming  forward  to  meet  him  " 106 

"  One  of  the  witked  ones  got  behind  him  and  suggested  many  grievous  blasphemies  to  him  "          .         .  107 

"  He  can  do  little  more  than  sit  in  his  cave's  mouth  " 109 

"  He  could  not  rise  again  until  Faithful  came  up  to  help  him  " in 

Discontent ....       114 

Pride,  Arrogancy,  Self-Conceit,  Worldly  Glory 115 

"  A  man  whose  name  is  Talkative  " 118 

"  At  the  town  there  is  a  fair  kept,  called  Vanity  Fair  " 128"- 

"  Some  mocking— and  calling  on  others  to  smite  them  " 130 

Lord  Hate-good 132 

Envy 133 

Superstition 133 

Pickthank 134 

The  Jury 136 

"  They  burned  him  to  ashes  at  the  stake  "    . 137 

"  There  was  one,  whose  name  was  Hopeful,  who  joined  himself  unto  him  " 139 

"  As  they  came  up  with  him  he  made  them  a  very  low  conge  " 141 

"  Remember  Lot's  wife  " ...   147 

Vain-confidence 149 

Giant  Despair 151 

"  This  done,  he  leaves  them  there  to  condole  their  misery  " 153 

"  Shall  we  show  these  pilgrims  some  wonders  ?" 157 

Ignorance 159 

"A  man  whom  seven  devils  had  bound  " 160 

"  So  they  came  up  all  to  him  and  with  threatening  language  bid  him  stand  " 161 

"  Then  Atheist  fell  into  a  very  great  laughter  " 168 

"  But  he  said,  '  No ;  for  I  was  invited  to  come :  " 173 

"  I  am  always  full  of  good  motions  " 175 

"  Christian  brake  out  with  a  loud  voice,  '  Oh  !  I  see  him  again !"' 184 

"  Thus  they  got  over " ...  185 

"  With  shouting  and  sound  of  trumpet  " 187 

"  They  carried  him  through  the  air  to  the  door  tliat  I  saw  in  the  side  of  the  hill,  and  put  him  in  there  "     189 

"  Behold,  it  was  a  dream  " 19° 

HEADING.     Bunyan  in  Bedford  Gaol 203 

The  Author  and  Mr.  Sagacity         .         .  ..." 204 

"  Her  thoughts  began  to  work  in  her  mind  "    .        .  206 

"Then  said  she  tb  her  children, 'Sons,  we  are  all  undone  !'" 207 

"  Here  is  also  a  letter  for  thee  " 209 

"  I  see  you  have  a  mind  to  go  a-fooling  too  " .' 212 

Mrs.  Timorous  and  her  Neighbors .213 

"  Come,  let  us  venture ;  only  let  us  be  wary  " 216 

The  King's  Trumpeter •  ....  218 

"  Mercy  was  fallen  down  without  in  a  swoon  " 220 

"  And  blessed  also  be  the  Man  that  thereto  moved  me  " 223 

"  So  Christiana's  boys  did  pluck  them  and  began  to  eat  " 224 

Two  ill-favored  ones  .  225 

Innocent 227 

"  A  man  that  could  look  no  way  but  downwards,  with  a  muck-rake  in  his  hand  " 229 

Mr.  Great-heart        ....  23$ 

Short-wind 240 


LIST  OF  ILL  USTRA  T1ONS.  7 

No-heart Page    241 

Sleepy-head        . 241 

"  He  took  the  little  boy  by  the  hand  and  led  him  up  thereto  " 242 

"  So  they  stepped  back  and  went  behind  " 245 

Giant  Grim 246 

"  I  went  on  bemoaning  the  hardness  of  my  heart " 249 

"  She  began  with  the  youngest,  whose  name  was  James  " 251 

Mercy's  suitor,  Mr.  Brisk 253 

"  Mr.  Skill,  an  ancient  and  well-approved  physician  " 255 

In  the  valley  of  Humiliation 262 

"  And  as  he  sat  by  himself  he  sang  " 263 

Heedless 268 

The  Giant  Maul 268 

Father  Honest 271 

"  There  also  he  stood  a  good  while  before  he  would  venture  to  knock  " 273 

Self-will .278 

"The  Innkeeper  was  a  lover  of  pilgrims  " 280 

Taste-that-which-is-good 281 

Matthew  and  Mercy 282 

" So  supper  came  up"        ........       V 283 

"  Mercy,  as  her  custom  was,  would  be  making  coats  and  garments  to  give  to  the  poor  "...       285 

"  Rather  than  we  will  part  I  will  lend  thee  one  of  my  crutches  " 291 

"Then  they  fell  to  demolishing  Doubting  Castle  " 299 

Despondency      .  " 299 

Much-afraid     .  300 

Prejudice    .  302 

Ill-will      .        .         .   ' 302 

"  Evangelist  offered  to  lay  hands  on  him  to  turn  him  into  the  way  again  " 305 

Wild-head 306 

Valiant-for-truth 307 

"  She  still  followed  me  with  enticements" 315 

"  Christiana  saw  that  her  time  was  come  " 319 

"  So  she  came  forth  and  entered  the  river  " 321 


JOHN  BUN  VAN. 


LIFE  OP   BUNYAN. 


CHAPTER   I. 

JOHN  BUNYAN,  the  author  of  the  book  which  has  probably  passed  through  more  editions, 
had  a  greater  number  of  readers,  and  been  translated  into  more  languages  than  any  other  book 
first  written  in  the  English  tongue,  was  born  in  the  parish  of  Elstow,  in  Bedfordshire,  in  the 
latter  part  of  the  year  1628. 

His  father,  Thomas  Bunyan,  though  styling  himself  in  his  will  by  the  more  dignified  title  of 
"  brazier,"  was  more  properly  what  is  known  as  a  "  tinker,"  a  mender  of  pots  and  kettles.  He 
was  not,  however,  a  mere  tramp  or  vagrant,  as  travelling  tinkers  were  and  usually  are  still,  but  a 
man  with  a  recognized  calling,  having  a  settled  home  and  an  acknowledged  position  in  the  vil- 
lage community  of  Elstow.  The  family  of  Burngnon,  Bunyun,  Buniun,  Boynon,  Bonyon,  or  Bin- 
yan  (the  name  is  found  spelled  in  no  fewer  than  thirty-four  different  ways),  had  been  established 
in  Bedfordshire  from  very  early  times.  It  was  of  long  standing  in  Elstow,  having  once  been  in 
possession  of  a  property  considerable  enough  to  have  given  the  name  of  its  possessor  to  the 
whole  locality.  A  mile  to  the  east  of  the  village,  near  the  hamlet  of  Harrowden,  was  a  place 
long  called  "  Bunyan's  End,"  and  two  fields  there  are  still  known  by  the  name  of  "  Bunyan's " 
and  "farther  Bunyan's."  It  was  in  his  own  cottage  on  this  land  that  Bunyan's  grandfather, 

Thomas  Bunyan,  carried  on  the  occupa- 
tion of  a  "  petty  chapman,"  or  small  retail 
dealer,  and  in  this  cottage,  probablyjohn 
Bunyan  was  born. 

The  mother  of  the  immortal  dreamer 
was  one  Margaret  Bentley,  who,  like  her 
husband,  was  a  native  of  Elstow,  and 
only  a  few  months  his  junior.  She  did 
not  come  of  the  very  squalid  poor,  but 
of  people  who,  though  humble  in  station, 
were  yet  decent  and  worthy  in  their 
ways.  She  was  the  second  of  Thomas 
Bunyan's  three  wives,  dying  after  seven- 
teen years  of  marriage. 

Elstow,  which  as  the  birthplace  of 
the  author  of  "The  Pilgrim's  Progress" 
has  gained  a  world-wide  celebrity,  is  a 
quiet  little  village,  which,  though  not 
much  more  than  a  mile  from  the  popu- 
lous and  busy  town  of  Bedford,  yet  lying 
aside  from  the  main  stream  of  modern  life,  preserves  its  old-world  look  to  an  unusual  degree. 
Few  villages  are  so  little  changed  as  Elstow.  The  old  half-timbered  cottages  with  overhang- 
ing stories,  peaked  dormers,  and  gabled  porches,  tapestried  with  roses  and  honeysuckles,  must 


A    HOUSE    IN    EI.STOW. 


LIFE  OF  BUN Y AN. 


be  much  what  they  were  in  Bunyan's  days.  A  village  street  with  detached  cottages,  standing  in 
gardens  gay  with  the  homely  flowers  John  Bunyan  knew  and  loved,  leads  to  the  village  green, 
fringed  with  churchyard  elms,  the  scene  of  village  festivities,  statute  hirings,  and  all  the  public 
occasions  of  village  life.  It  is  probably  little  altered  from  the  time  when  our  hero  was  the  ring- 
leader of  the  youth  of  the  place  in  the  dances  on  the  greensward,  which  he  tells  us  he  found  it 
so  hard  to  give  up,  and  in  "tip-cat"  and  other  games  innocent  in  theory,  but  which  his  con- 
science afterwards  regarded  as  "  ungodly  practices,"  even  as  the  very  ploughing  of  the  wicked 
is  sin.  In  the  middle  of  the  green  is  still  seen  the  pedestal  or  stump  of  the  market  cross; 
at  the  upper  end  is  the  old  "Moot  Hall"  of  the  fifteenth  century,  in  front  of  which  on 
the  common  Bunyan  afterwards  preached;  and  on  the  south  side  is  the  church,  a  fragment 
of  the  old  Benedictine  nunnery  founded  in  1078  by  Judith,  niece  of  William  the  Conqueror. 
This  church,  with  its  detached  bell- 
tower,  was  the  scene  of  many  of  the 
fierce  conflicts  so  vividly  depicted 
by  Bunyan  in  his  "  Grace  Abound- 
ing." The  pulpit,  if  it  has  survived 
the  recent  restoration,  is  the  same 
from  which  Christopher  Hall,  the 
then  "parson"  of  Elstow,  preached 
the  sermon  which  first  awoke  his 
sleeping  conscience.  An  old  oaken 
bench  is  traditionally  shown  as  the 
seat  he  used  to  occupy  when  "  he 
went  to  church  twice  a  day,  and 
that  too  with  the  foremost,  counting 
all  things  holy  that  were  therein  con- 
tained." The  five  bells  which  hang 
in  the  belfry  are  the  same  in  which 
Bunyan  so  delighted,  the  fourth  bell, 
tradition  says,  being  that  he  used  to 
ring.  The  rough,  ragged  floor,  all 
worn  and  broken  with  the  hob- 
nailed boots  of  generations  of  ring- 
ers, remains  undisturbed.  One  can- 
not see  the  door,  set  in  its  solid  ma- 
sonry, without  recalling  the  figure  of  Bunyan  standing  in  it  after  conscience,  "  beginning  to  be 
tender,"  told  him  that  "such  practice  was  but  vain,"  but  yet  unable  to  deny  himself  the  pleas- 
ure of  seeing  others  ring,  hoping  that  "  if  a  bell  should  fall,"  he  could  "  slip  out "  safely  "  behind 
the  thick  walls,"  and  so  "  be  preserved  notwithstanding."  Behind  the  church  stand  some  pictu- 
resque, ivy- clad  remains  of  a  once  stately  mansion,  which  may  have  given  Bunyan  the  first  idea 
of  "  the  very  stately  palace,  the  name  of  which  was  Beautiful." 

The  cottage  in  which  Bunyan  was  born  has  been  so  long  destroyed  that  even  the  knowledge 
of  its  site  has  passed  away.  That  in  which  he  lived  for  six  years  (1649-1655),  after  his  first 
marriage,  and  where  his  children  were  born,  is  still  standing  in  the  village  street,  but  modern 
reparations  have  robbed  it  of  all  interest. 


ELSTOW   CHURCH. 


LIFE  OF  BUNYAN.  15 

Bunyan's  parents,  though  poor,  were  evidently  worthy  people,  of  good  repute  among  their 
village  neighbors.  Bunyan  seems  to  be  describing  his  own  father  and  his  wandering  life  when 
he  speaks  of  "  an  honest,  poor  laboring  man  who,  like  Adam  unparadised,  had  all  the  world 
to  get  his  bread  in,  and  was  very  careful  to  maintain  his  family."  He  and  his  wife  were  also 
careful  that  their  children  should  be  properly  educated.  "Notwithstanding  the  meanness  and 
inconsiderableness  of  my  parents,"  writes  Bunyan,  "  it  pleased  God  to  put  it  into  their  hearts 
to  put  me  to  school,  to  learn  both  to  read  and  to  write."  There  is  reason  to  believe  that  what 
little  education  he  had  was  gained  in  the  grammar  school  of  Bedford,  and  thither  we  may 
picture  the  little  lad  trudging,  day  by  day,  along  the  mile  and  a  half  of  footpath  and  road  from 
his  father's  cottage  by  the  brookside,  often,  no  doubt,  wet  and  miry  enough,  not,  as  he  says, 
to  "  go  to  school  to  Aristotle  or  Plato,"  but  to  be  taught  "  according  to  the  rate  of  other  poor 
men's  children." 

Whatever  Bunyan  may  have  learned  at  school,  he  confesses  with  shame  that  he  soon  lost 
it  "  almost  utterly."  He  was  before  long  recalled  from  school  to  aid  his  father  at  the  forge, 
and  soon,  with  little  to  elevate  or  refine  his  character,  he  contracted  many  bad  habits,  especially 
those  of  "  cursing,  swearing,  lying,  and  blaspheming  the  holy  name  of  God."  Sins  of  this  kind 
he  declares  to  have  become  "a  second  nature  to  him;"  and  he  says  of  himself  that  he  became 
a  "  notorious  sin-breeder,"  the  "  very  ringleader  "  of  the  village  lads  "  in  all  manner  of  vice  and 
ungodliness."  We  must  beware,  however,  of  drawing  the  conclusion,  from  Bunyan's  unsparing  self- 
condemnation,  that  he  ever,  either  as  boy  or  man,  lived  a  vicious  life.  All  of  Bu^yan's  biographers 
agree  that  his  wickedness  has  been  greatly  overrated.  His  youthful  escapades  of  orchard  robbing 
or  poaching  might  have  brought  him  under  "  the  stroke  of  the  laws  "  and  put  him  to  "  open  shame 
before  the  face  of  the  world."  But  he  confesses  to  no  crime  of  a  profligate  habit.  We  have 
no  reason  to  suppose  that  he  was  ever  drunk,  and  we  have  his  own  most  solemn  declaration  that 
he  was  never  guilty  of  an  act  of  unchastity.  The  passionate  language  in  which  he  expresses 
his  own  self-abhorrence  is  the  language  of  a  highly -strung  spiritual  nature,  realizing  its  own 
offences,  venial  as  they  appear  to  others,  as  sins  against  infinite  love,  and  in  the  light  of  the 
sacrifice  of  Calvary  recognizing  the  heinousness  of  his  guilt.  The  sinfulness  of  sin,  more  especially 
of  his  own  sin,  is  the  intensest  of  all  possible  realities  to  such  a  nature.  No  language  is  too  strong 
to  describe  it.  We  may  not  unreasonably  ask  whether  this  estimate,  however  exaggerated  it  may 
appear  to  those  who  are  strangers  to  these  spiritual  experiences,  is  altogether  a  mistaken  one. 

The  spiritual  instinct  was  very  early  awakened  in  Bunyan.  While  still  a  child,  "  but  nine 
or  ten  years  old,"  he  tells  us  he  was  racked  with  convictions  of  sin  and  tormented  with  religious 
fears.  He  was  haunted  in  his  sleep  with  "apprehensions  of  devils  and  wicked  spirits"  coming 
to  carry  him  away.  The  thought  of  the  day  of  judgment  hung  over  him  like  a  dark  cloud,  and 
made  him  tremble  even  in  the  midst  of  his  boyish  spirits.  But  these  visions  were  but  transient, 
and  his  ardent  nature  reacting  from  them,  he  gave  himself  with  so  much  the  less  restraint 
to  his  boyish  pleasures.  "  Thoughts  of  religion  "  became  very  grievous  to  him,  and  he  put  them 
out  of  his  mind.  Yet  even  in  his  most  reckless  days  the  sense  of  religion  was  not  dead  in  him, 
and  he  experienced  a  horror  at  seeing  religion  dishonored  by  those  who  professed  it.  "  Once," 
he  says,  "  when  I  was  at  the  height  of  my  vanity,  hearing  one  to  swear  who  was  reckoned 
for  a  religious  man,  it  had  so  great  a  stroke  upon  my  spirit  that  it  made  my  heart  to  ache." 

This  undercurrent  of  religious  feeling  was  deepened  by  providential  escapes  from  accidents 
which  threatened  his  life — "judgments  mixed  with  mercy,"  he  terms  them — which  made  him  feel 
that  he  was  not  utterly  forsaken  of  God.  Twice  he  narrowly  escaped  drowning— once  in  "  Bedford 


1 6  LIFE  OF  BUN  VAN. 

river,"  the  Ouse;  once  in  "a  creek  of  the  sea,"  perhaps  when  on  his  tinkering  rounds.  The  most 
impressive  of  these  providential  escapes  is  best  told  in  his  own  words:  "When  I  was  a  soldier 
I,  with  others,  was  drawn  out  to  go  to  such  a  place  to  besiege  it.  But  when  I  was  just  ready 
to  go,  one  of  the  company  desired  to  go  in  my  room,  to  which,  when  I  consented,  he  took 
my  place ;  and  coming  to  the  siege,  as  he  stood  sentinel,  he  was  shot  in  the  head  with  a  musket- 
bullet  and  died."  When  it  was  that  Bunyan  served  in  the  army,  and  on  which  side  he  served, 
we  have  no  means  of  knowing  definitely.  The  religious  import  of  the  occurrences  he  relates 
constituted  their  only  value  in  his  eyes,  and  he  gives  us  no  further  details  than  suffice  to  bring 
out  this  import.  Probably  it  was  shortly  after  the  death  of  his  mother,  when  he  was  sixteen,  that 
he  entered  the  army,  and  there  are  good  reasons  for  thinking  that  he  served  on  the  side  of  Parlia- 
ment, though  Mr.  Froude  holds  that  "  probability  is  on  the  side  of  his  having  been  with 
the  Royalists."  The  place  of  the  siege  he  refers  to  is  equally  undeterminable.  Tradition  says 
that  Bunyan  was  present  at  the  siege  of  Leicester;  but  the  one  thing  certain  is,  that  wherever 
the  siege  may  have  been,  Bunyan  was  not  at  it.  He  tells  us  plainly  that  he  was  "  drawn  to 
go,"  and  gave  up  his  place  to  a  comrade  who  went  in  his  room.  In  any  case,  Bunyan's  military 
career  was  very  short.  He  had  only  been  a  soldier  a  few  months  when  the  battle  of  Naseby 
was  fought,  June  14,  1645.  In  1646  the  armies  on  both  sides  were  disbanded,  and  Bunyan 
returned  to  Elstow  and  resumed  his  tinker's  work  at  the  paternal  forge. 


CHAPTER  II. 

BUNYAN  was  probably  not  more  than  twenty  years  old  when  he  married.  Of  his  marriage 
he  gives  us  no  details — not  even  the  name  of  the  orphan  girl  whom  he  made  his  wife — except  so 
far  as  they  bear  upon  his  inner  life.  His  "  mercy  was  to  light  upon  a  wife  whose  father  was 
counted  godly,"  and  who,  though  she  brought  him  no  marriage  portion — so  that  they  "  came 
together  as  poor  as  poor  might  be,  not  having,"  as  he  tells  us,  "so  much  household  stuff  as  a 
dish  or  spoon  between  us  both — yet  this  she  had  for  her  part,  '  The  Plain  Man's  Pathway  to 
Heaven  '  and  '  The  Practice  of  Piety,'  which  her  father  had  left  her  when  he  died.  In  these  two 
books  I  would  sometimes  read  with  her,  wherein  I  also  found  some  things  that  were  somewhat 
pleasing  to  me."  This  reading  "  did  beget  within  me  some  desires  to  reform  my  vicious  life,  and 
fall  in  very  eagerly  with  the  religion  of  the  times,  to  wit,  to  go  to  church  twice  a  day,  and  that 
too  with  the  foremost ;  and  there  I  would  very  devoutly  both  say  and  sing  as  others  did,  yet 
retaining  my  wicked  life,"  a  liking  for  the  sports  and  games  of  the  profane  and  ungodly  lads 
of  the  village,  "  bell-ringing,  dancing,  and  the  like."  The  ceremonial  of  his  parish  church  had 
a  powerful  effect  on  Bunyan's  freshly  awakened  religious  susceptibility.  "  I  adored,"  he  says, 
"with  great  devotion  even  all  things,  both  the  high  place,  priest,  clerk,  vestment,  service,  and 
what  else  belonged  to  the  church,  counting  all  things  holy  that  were  therein  contained,  and 
especially  the  priest  and  clerk  most  happy,  and  without  doubt  greatly  blessed,  because  they  were 
the  servants  of  God  and  were  principal  in  the  holy  temple  to  do  his  work  therein."  Yet,  service 
over,  the  sports  upon  the  village  green  still  claimed  him.  These  Sunday  sports  proved  the 
battle-ground  of  Bunyan's  spiritual  experience,  the  scene  of  the  fierce  inward  struggles  which  he 
has  described  so  vividly,  through  which  he  ultimately  reached  the  firm  ground  of  solid  peace 
and  hope. 

The  teaching  came  in  this  way.     One  Sunday  Vicar  Hall  preached  a  sermon  on  the  sin  of 


LIFE  OF  BUN  VAN.  17 

Sabbath-breaking,  and  like  many  hearers  before  and  since,  Bunyan  imagined  that  it  was  aimed 
expressly  at  him.  Sermon  ended,  he  went  home  "  with  a  great  burden  upon  his  spirit."  But  his 
Sunday's  dinner  speedily  drove  away  his  self-condemning  thoughts.  He  "  shook  the  sermon  out 
of  his  mind "  and  went  out  to  his  sports  with  the  Elstow  lads  on  the  village  green  with  as 
"great  delight"  as  ever.  But  in  the  midst  of  his  "game  of  cat,"  when  he  had  "struck  it  one 
blow  from  the  hole  "  and  "  was  about  to  strike  it  a  second  time  " — the  minuteness  of  the  detail 
showing  the  unforgettable  reality  of  the  crisis — "  a  voice  did  suddenly  dart  from  heaven  into  my 
soul,  which  said,  '  Wilt  thou  leave  thy  sins  and  go  to  heaven,  or  have  thy  sins  and  go  to  hell  ?' 
At  this,"  he  says,  "  I  was  put  to  an  exceeding  maze ;  wherefore,  leaving  my  bat  upon  the  ground, 
I  looked  up  to  heaven,  and  was  as  if  I  had  with  the  eyes  of  my  understanding  seen  the  Lord 
Jesus  looking  down  upon  me  as  being  very  hotly  displeased  with  me."  But  he  "  shut  his  eyes 
against  the  light,"  and  having  decided  that  "  it  was  too  late  for  him  to  look  after  heaven,  he  was 
past  pardon,"  he  determined  to  look  for  what  happiness  he  could  get  out  of  this  world,  resolved, 
he  says,  "  to  take  my  fill  of  sin,  still  studying  what  sin  was  yet  to  be  committed,  that  I  might  taste 
the  sweetness  of  it." 

This  desperate  recklessness  lasted  with  him  "  about  a  month  or  more  "  till  "  one  day,  as  he  was 
standing  at  a  neighbor's  shop-window,  and  there  cursing  and  swearing  and  playing  the  madman 
after  his  wonted  manner,  "  "  the  woman  of  the  house,  though  a  very  loose  and  ungodly  wretch," 
rebuked  him  so  severely  as  "  the  ungodliest  fellow  for  swearing  that  ever  she  heard,  able  to  spoil 
all  the  youth  in  the  whole  town,"  that  he  resolved,  though  it  seemed  to  him  well  nigh  impossible,  to 
try  to  break  off  this  wicked  habit.  To  his  own  "  great  wonder,"  he  did  "  leave  off  his  swear- 
ing," and  found  that  he  "  could  speak  better  and  with  more  pleasantness  "  than  when  he  "  put  an 
oath  before  and  another  behind,  to  give  his  words  authority." 

The  next  step  in  his  religious  progress  was  the  study  of  the  Bible,  to  which  he  was  led  by 
the  conversation  of  a  godly  neighbor.  He  read  the  historical  books  "  with  great  pleasure,"  but 
frankly  confesses,  "  Paul's  Epistles  and  such  like  Scriptures  I  could  not  away  with."  He  set 
the  keeping  the  Ten  Commandments  before  him  as  his  "way  to  heaven,"  much  comforted 
"sometimes"  when,  as  he  thought,  "he  kept  them  pretty  well,"  but  humbled  in  conscience  when 
"  now  and  then  he  broke  one."  "  But  then,"  he  says,  "  I  would  repent  and  say  I  was  sorry  for 
it,  and  promise  God  to  do  better  next  time,  and  then  get  help  again ;  for  then  I  thought  I  pleased 
God  as  well  as  any  man  in  England."  His  progress  was  slow,  for  each  step  involved  a  battle, 
but  it  was  steadily  onwards.  He  had  a  very  hard  struggle  in  relinquishing  his  favorite  amuse- 
ments. But  though  he  had  much  yet  to  learn,  his  feet  were  set  in  the  upward  way,  and  he  had 
no  mind  to  go  back,  great  as  the  temptation  often  was.  He  had  once  delighted  in  bell-ringing, 
but  "  his  conscience  beginning  to  be  tender  " — morbid,  perhaps — "  he  thought  such  practice  to 
be  vain,  and  therefore  forced  himself  to  leave  it."  But  "  hankering  after  it  still,"  he  continued 
to  go  while  his  old  companions  rang,  and  look  on  at  what  he  "durst  not "  join  in,  until  the  fear 
that  if  he  thus  winked  at  what  his  conscience  condemned,  a  bell— or  even  the  tower  itself— might 
fall  and  kill  him,  put  a  stop  to  that  compromise.  Dancing,  which  from  his  boyhood  he  had 
practised  on  the  village  green  or  in  the  old  Moot  Hall,  was  still  harder  to  give  up.  "  It  was  a 
full  year  before  I  could  quite  leave  that."  But  this  too  was  at  last  renounced,  and  finally.  The 
power  of  Bunyan's  indomitable  will  was  bracing  itself  for  severe  trials  yet  to  come. 

Meantime  the  changed  life  of  the  profane  tinker  had  become  the  town  talk.  "  My  neighbors 
were  amazed  at  this  my  great  conversion  'to  something  like  a  moral  life,"  he  writes,  "and  truly  so 
they  well  might,  for  this  my  conversion  was  as  great  as  for  Tom  of  Bedlam  to  become  a  sober 

3 


18  LIFE  OF  BUNYAN. 

man.  Now,  therefore,  they  began  to  praise,  to  commend,  and  to  speak  well  of  me,  both  to  my 
face  and  behind  my  back."  These  commendations  of  the  public  greatly  flattered  his  vanity,  so 
that  he  was  proud  of  his  godliness,  doing  all  he  did  either  to  be  seen  of  or  well  spoken  of  by 
man.  Thus  "for  about  a  twelvemonth  or  more"  he  "had  great  peace  of  conscience,"  thinking, 
"God  cannot  choose  but  now  be  pleased  with  me.  All  the  while,"  he  writes,  "poor  wretch  as  I 
was,  I  was  ignorant  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  going  about  to  establish  my  own  righteousness  ;  and  had 
perished  therein  had  not  God  in  mercy  showed  me  more  of  my  state  by  nature." 

This  revelation  came  to  him  by  means  of  the  conversation  of  three  or  four  poor  women 
whom,  one  day,  when  pursuing  his  tinker's  calling  at  Bedford,  he  came  upon  "  sitting  at  a  door  in 
the  sun  and  talking  of  the  things  of  God."  These  women  were  members  of  the  congregation  of 
"  the  holy  Mr.  John  Gifford,"  and  their  conversation  evidenced  how  thoroughly  they  had  drunk 
in  their  pastor's  teaching.  Bunyan  himself  was  at  this  time  a  "  brisk  talker  in  the  matters  of 
religion,"  such  as  he  drew  from  the  life  in  his  own  Talkative.  But  the  words  of  these  poor 
women  were  entirely  beyond  him.  They  opened  a  new  and  blessed  land  to  which  he  was  a  com- 
plete stranger.  "  They  spoke  of  their  own  wretchedness  of  heart,  of  their  unbelief,  of  their  miser- 
able state  by  nature,  of  the  new  birth,  and  the  work  of  God  in  their  souls,  and  how  the  Lord 
refreshed  them,  and  supported  them  against  the  temptations  of  the  devil  by  his  words  and 
promises."  But  what  seems  to  have  struck  Bunyan  the  most  forcibly  was  the  happiness  which 
their  religion  shed  in  the  hearts  of  these  poor  women.  Religion  up  to  this  time  had  been  to  him 
a  system  of  rules  and  restrictions.  Of  religion  as  a  divine  life  kindled  in  the  soul  and  flooding 
it  with  a  joy  which  creates  a  heaven  on  earth,  he  had  no  conception.  But  these  women  "  spoke 
as  if  joy  did  make  them  speak ;  they  spoke  with  such  pleasantness  of  Scripture  language,  and 
with  such  appearance  of  grace  in  all  they  said,  that  they  were  to  me  as  if  they  had  found  a  new 
world." 

Their  words  went  with  him  as  he  left  them  and  went  about  his  work  again.  He  saw  that 
though  he  thought  himself  a  godly  man,  and  his  neighbors  thought  so  too,  he  wanted  the  true 
tokens  of  godliness ;  and  he  could  not  rest  until  he  had  them.  So  he  made  it  his  business  to  be 
going  again  and  again  into  the  company  of  these  good  women.  The  more  he  talked  with  them 
"the  more  he  questioned  his  own  condition."  The  salvation  of  his  soul  became  all  in  all  to  him. 
His  mind  "  lay  fixed  on  eternity  like  a  horse-leech  at  the  vein."  The  Bible  became  precious  to 
him  ;  he  read  it  as  he  "  never  did  before."  "  I  was  indeed  then  never  out  of  the  Bible,  either  by 
reading  or  meditation."  The  Epistles  of  St.  Paul,  which  before  he  "could  not  away  with,"  were 
now  "  sweet  and  pleasant "  to  him.  He  was  still  "  crying  out  to  God  that  he  might  know  the 
truth  and  the  way  to  heaven  and  glory." 

Having  no  one  to  guide  him  in  the  study  of  the  Word,  it  is  no  wonder  that  he  misinterpreted 
and  misapplied  its  words  in  a  manner  that  went  far  to  unsettle  his  brain.  He  read  that  without 
faith  he  could  not  be  saved,  and  though  he  did  not  clearly  know  what  faith  was,  it  became  a  ques- 
tion of  supreme  anxiety  for  him  to  determine  whether  he  had  it  or  not.  He  determined  to  put  it 
to  the  test.  The  Bible  told  him  that  faith,  "  even  as  a  grain  of  mustard  seed,"  would  enable  its 
possessor  to  work  miracles.  So,  as  Mr.  Froude  says,  "  not  understanding  Oriental  metaphors,"  he 
thought  he  had  here  a  simple  test  which  would  at  once  solve  the  question.  One  day  as  he  was 
walking  along  the  miry  road  between  Elstow  and  Bedford  which  he  had  so  often  paced  as  a 
schoolboy,  "  the  temptation  came  hot  upon  him  "  to  put  the  matter  to  the  proof  by  saying  "  to  the 
puddles  that  were  in  the  horse-pads,  '  Be  dry,'  and  to  the  dry  places,  '  Be  you  puddles.'  And 
truly  one  time  I  was  going  to  say  so  indeed ;  but  just  as  I  was  about  to  speak,  this  thought  came 


LIFE  OF  BUN  VAN.  19 

into  my  mind,  '  But  go  under  yonder  hedge  and  pray  first  that  God  would  make  you  able.' "  This 
pause  saved  him  from  a  rash  venture  which  might  have  landed  him  in  despair.  For  he  concluded 
that  if  he  tried  after  praying  and  nothing  came  of  it,  it  would  prove  that  he  had  no  faith,  but  was 
a  castaway.  "  Nay,"  thought  I,  "  if  it  be  so  I  will  never  try  yet,  but  will  stay  a  little  longer." 
"  Thus,"  he  continues,  "  I  was  so  tossed  between  the  devil  and  my  own  ignorance  that  I  could  not 
tell  what  to  do." 

At  another  time  his  mind  was  harassed  by  the  insoluble  problem  of  predestination  and 
election.  The  question  was  not  now  whether  he  had  faith,  but  whether  he  "  was  one  of  the  elect 
or  not;  and  if  not,  what  then?"  He  "  might  as  well  leave  off  and  strive  no  further."  And  then 
the  strange  fancy  occurred  to  him  that  the  good  people  at  Bedford  whose  acquaintance  he  had 
recently  made  were  all  that  God  meant  to  save  in  that  part  of  the  country,  and  that  the  day  of 
grace  was  past  and  gone  for  him;  that  he  had  overstood  the  time  of  mercy.  "Oh,  that  he  had 
turned  sooner !"  was  then  his  cry.  "  Oh,  that  he  had  turned  seven  years  before !  What  a  fool  he 
had  been  to  trifle  away  his  time  till  his  soul  and  heaven  were  lost !"  The  text  "  Compel  them  to 
come  in,  for  yet  there  is  room,"  came  to  his  rescue  when  he  was  so  harassed  and  faint  that  he  was 
"  scarce  able  to  take  one  step  more."  He  found  them  "  sweet  words,"  for  they  showed  him  that 
there  was  "  place  enough  in  heaven  for  him,"  and  he  verily  believed  that  when  Christ  spoke  them 
he  was  thinking  of  him,  and  had  them  recorded  to  help  him  to  overcome  the  vile  fear  that  there 
was  no  place  left  for  him  in  His  bosom.  But  soon  another  fear  succeeded  the  former.  Was  he 
truly  called  of  Christ  ?  "  He  called  to  Him  whom  He  would,  and  they  came  unto  Him.".,  But  they 
could  not  come  unless  He  called  them.  Had  He  called  him  ?  Would  He  call  him  ?  If  He  did, 
how  gladly  would  he  run  after  Him !  But  oh,  he  feared  that  He  had  no  liking  to  him,  that  He 
would  not  call  him  !  True  conversion  was  what  he  longed  for.  "  Could  it  have  been  gotten  for 
gold,"  he  said,  "  what  would  I  have  given  for  it !  Had  I  a  whole  world,  it  had  all  gone  ten  thou- 
sand times  over  for  this,  that  my  soul  might  have  been  in  a  converted  state."  All  those  whom  he 
thought  to  be  truly  converted  were  now  lovely  in  his  eyes.  "  They  shone,  they  walked  like  peo- 
ple that  carried  the  broad  seal  of  heaven  about  with  them."  Oh,  that  he  were  like  them  and  shared 
in  their  goodly  heritage  ! 

About  this  time  he  was  at  once  troubled  and  encouraged  by  a  "dream  or  vision  "  which  pre- 
sented itself  to  him.  He  fancied  that  he  saw  his  four  Bedford  friends  refreshing  themselves  on  the 
sunny  side  of  a  high  mountain  while  he  was  shivering  with  dark  and  cold  on  the  other  side,  parted 
from  them  by  a  high  wall  with  only  one  small  gap  in  it,  and  that  not  found  but  after  long  searching, 
and  so  strait  and  narrow  withal  that  it  needed  long  and  desperate  efforts  to  force  his  way  through. 
At  last  he  succeeded.  "  Then,"  he  says,  "  I  was  exceeding  glad,  and  went  and  sat  down  in  the 
midst  of  them,  and  so  was  comforted  with  the  light  and  heat  of  their  sun." 

But  this  sunshine  soon  gave  place  to  the  old  sad  questioning  as  to  his  calling.  Some  words 
of  the  prophet  Joel  (chap.  3:'2i)  encouraged  him  to  hope  that  if  not  converted  already,  the  time 
might  come  when  he  should  be  converted  to  Christ,  and  despair  began  to  give  way  to  hope- 
fulness. It  was  at  this  crisis  that  he  was  introduced  to  the  "godly  Mr.  Gifford,"  the  pastor  of  his- 
Bedford  friends,  and  began  to  attend  the  meetings  of  his  disciples.  His  first  experiences  after  his 
introduction  to  Mr.  Gifford  and  the  inner  circle  of  his  disciples  were  most  discouraging.  What  he 
heard  of  God's  dealings  with  their  souls  showed  him  something  of  "the  vanity  and  inward  wretch- 
edness of  his  wicked  heart,"  and  at  the  same  time  roused  all  its  hostility  to  God's  will.  "  It  did 
work  at  that  rate  for  wickedness  as  it  never  did  before."  "The  Canaanites  would  dwell  in  the 
land."  His  heart  "  hankered  after  every  foolish  vanity,  and  hung  back  both  to  and  in  every  duty, 


20  LIFE  OF  BUNYAN. 

as  a  clog  on  the  leg  oi  a  bird  to  hinder  her  from  flying."  He  thought  he  was  growing  "  worse 
and  worse,"  and  was  "  further  from  conversion  than  ever  before."  Though  he  longed  to  let  Christ 
into  his  heart,  "  his  unbelief  would,  as  it  were,  set  its  shoulder  to  the  door  to  keep  him  out." 

Yet  all  the  time  he  was  tormented  with  the  most  perverse  scrupulosity  of  conscience.  "  As  to 
the  act  of  sinning,  I  was  never  more  tender  than  now;  I  durst  not  take  a  pin  or  a  stick,  though 
but  so  big  as  a  straw,  for  my  conscience  now  was  sore  and  would  smart  at  every  twist.  I  could 
not  now  tell  how  to  speak  my  words  for  fear  I  should  misplace  them.  Oh,  how  gingerly  did  I 
then  go  in  all  I  did  or  said.  I  found  myself  in  a  miry  bog,  that  shook  if  I  did  but  stir,  and  was  as 
those  left  both  of  God  and  of  Christ  and  the  Spirit  and  all  good  things."  All  the  misdoings  of 
his  earlier  years  rose  up  against  him.  He  thought  that  no  one  could  be  so  bad  as  he  was;  "not 
even  the  devil  could  be  his  equal:  he  was  more  loathsome  in  his  own  eyes  than  a  toad."  What 
then  must  God  think  of  him  ?  Despair  seized  fast  hold  of  him.  He  thought  he  was  "  forsaken 
of  God  and  given  up  to  the  devil  and  to  a  reprobate  mind."  Nor  was  this  a  transient  fit  of  de- 
spondency. "  Thus,"  he  writes,  "  I  continued  a  long  while,  even  for  some  years  together." 

So  went  on  the  struggle,  described  by  himself  in  a  picture  of  fearful  fascination,  through  sudden 
alternations  of  hopes  and  fears,  fierce  temptations,  torturing  illusions,  harassing  doubts  as  to  the 
truth  of  Christianity,  depths  of  despair,  and  elevations  of  joy.  At  one  time  "  a  great  storm  "  came 
down  upon  him,  in  which  he  felt  himself  driven  to  commit  the  unpardonable  sin  and  blaspheme 
the  Holy  Ghost  "  whether  he  would  or  no."  He  was  ready  to  leap  head-foremost  "  into  some 
muckhole  "  to  prevent  his  uttering  the  fatal  words,  and  yet  at  last  he  was  convinced  that  he  had 
committed  the  sin.  He  thought  himself  possessed  by  the  devil,  and  compared  himself  to  a  child 
"  carried  off  under  her  apron  by  a  gypsy."  "  Kick  sometimes  I  did,  and  also  shriek  and  cry,  but 
yet  I  was  as  bound  in  the  wings  of  the  temptation  and  the  wind  would  carry  me  away."  He 
wished  himself  "  a  dog  or  a  toad,"  for  they  "  had  no  soul  to  be  lost  as  his  was  like  to  be,"  and 
again  a  hopeless  callousness  seemed  to  settle  upon  him.  "  If  I  would  have  given  a  thousand 
pounds  for  a  tear  I  could  not  shed  one ;  no,  nor  sometimes  scarce  desire  to  shed  one."  Again, 
the  very  ground  of  his  faith  was  shaken.  "  Was  the  Bible  true,  or  was  it  not  rather  a  fable  and 
cunning  story  ?  All  thought  their  own  religion  true.  Might  not  the  Turks  have  as  good  scrip- 
tures to  prove  their  Mahomet  Saviour  as  Christians  had  for  Christ  ?  What  if  all  we  believed  in 
should  be  but  'a  think  so'  too?"  So  powerful  and  real  were  his  illusions  that  he  had  hard  work 
to  keep  himself  from  praying  to  things  about  him,  to  "  a  bush,  a  bull,  a  besom,  or  the  like,"  or 
even  to  Satan  himself.  He  heard  voices  behind  him  crying  out  that  Satan  desired  to  have  him, 
and  that  "  so  loud  and  plain  that  he  would  turn  his  head  to  see  who  was  calling  him."  When  on 
his  knees  in  prayer  he  fancied  he  felt  the  foul  fiend  pull  his  clothes  from  behind,  bidding  him 
"break  off,  make  haste;  you  have  prayed  enough." 

This  "  horror  of  great  darkness  "  was  not  always  upon  him.  Bunyan  had  his  intervals  of  "  sun- 
shine weather,"  when  Giant  Despair's  fits  came  on  him  and  the  giant  "lost  the  use  of  his  hand." 
Texts  of  Scripture  would  give  him  a  "  sweet  glance,"  and  flood  his  soul  with  comfort.  But  these 
intervals  of  happiness  were  brief.  They  were  but  "  hints,  touches,  and  short  visits,"  sweet  when 
present,  but  "  like  Peter's  sheet,  suddenly  caught  up  again  into  heaven."  But,  though  transient, 
they  helped  the  burdened  pilgrim  onward.  The  joy  was  real  while  it  lasted.  The  words 
of  the  preacher's  text,  "  Behold,  thou  art  fair,  my  love,"  kindling  his  spirit,  he  "  felt  his  heart  filled 
with  comfort  and  hope,"  and  "  could  believe  that  his  sins  would  be  forgiven."  He  was  almost 
beside  himself  with  ecstasy.  "  I  was  now  so  taken  with  the  love  and  mercy  of  God  that  I  thought 
I  could  have  spoken  of  it  even  to  the  very  crows  that  sat  upon  the  ploughed  lands  before 


LIFE  OF  BUNYAN.  21 

me,  had  they  been  capable  to  have  understood  me."  "  Surely,"  he  cried  with  gladness,  "  I  will 
not  forget  this  forty  years  hence."  "  But  alas  !  within  less  than  forty  days  I  began  to  question 
all  again."  It  was  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death  which  Bunyan,  like  his  own  Pilgrim, 
was  travelling  through.  But,  as  in  his  allegory,  "  by-and-by  the  day  broke,"  and  "  the  Lord 
did  more  fully  and  graciously  discover  himself  to  him."  "  One  day,"  he  writes,  "  as  I  was  musing 
on  the  wickedness  and  blasphemy  of  my  heart,  that  Scripture  came  into  my  mind, '  He  hath  made 
peace  by  the,  blood  of  his  cross.'  By  which  I  was  made  to  see,  both  again  and  again  and  again 
that  day,  that  God  and  my  soul  were  friends  by  this  blood :  yea,  I  saw  the  justice  of  God  and 
my  sinful  soul  could  embrace  and  kiss  each  other.  This  was  a  good  day  to  me.  I  hope  I  shall 
not  forget  it."  At  another  time  the  "glory  and  joy  "  of  a  passage  in  the  Hebrews  (2  : 14,  15)  were 
"so  weighty"  that  "I  was  once  or  twice  ready  to  swoon  as  I  sat,  not  with  grief  and  trouble, 
but  with  solid  joy  and  peace."  "  But  oh !  now  how  was  my  soul  led  on  from  truth  to  truth 
by  God ;  now  I  had  evidence  of  my  salvation  from  heaven,  with  many  golden  seals  thereon, 
all  hanging  in  my  sight,  and  I  would  long  that  the  last  day  were  come,  or  that  I  were  fourscore 
years  old,  that  I  might  die  quickly,  that  my  soul  might  be  at  rest." 

At  this  time  he  fell  in  with  an  old  copy  of  Luther's  "  Commentary  on  the  Galatians," 
"  so  old  that  it  was  ready  to  fall  piece  from  piece,  if  I  did  but  turn  it  over."  As  he  read, 
to  his  amazement  and  thankfulness  he  found  his  own  spiritual  experience  described.  "It  was 
as  if  his  book  had  been  written  out  of  my  heart."  It  greatly  comforted  him  to  find  that  his  condi- 
tion was  not,  as  he  had  thought,  solitary,  but  that  others  had  known  the  same  inward  struggles. 
"  Of  all  the  books  that  ever  he  had  seen,"  he  deemed  it  "  most  fit  for  a  wounded  conscience." 
This  book  was  also  the  means  of  awakening  an  intense  love  for  the  Saviour.  "  Now  I  found, 
as  I  thought,  that  I  loved  Christ  dearly.  Oh,  methought  my  soul  cleaved  unto  him,  my  affections 
cleaved  unto  him;  I  felt  love  to  him  as  hot  as  fire." 

Now  came  a  new  and  extraordinary  temptation.  He  had  "  found  Christ "  and  felt  Him  "  most 
precious  to  his  soul."  He  was  now  tempted  to  give  Him  up,  "to  sell  and  part  with  this  most 
blessed  Christ,  to  exchange  him  for  the  things  of  this  life,  for  anything."  Nor  was  this  a  mere 
passing,  intermittent  delusion.  "  It  lay  upon  me  for  the  space  of  a  year,  and  did  follow  me  so  con- 
tinually that  I  was  not  rid  of  it  one  day  in  a  month,  no,  not  sometimes  one  hour  in  many  days 
together,  except  when  I  was  asleep."  Wherever  he  was,  whatever  he  was  doing,  day  and  night, 
in  bed,  at  table,  at  work,  a  voice  kept  sounding  in  his  ears,  bidding  him  "  sell  Christ "  for  this 
or  that.  He  could  "neither  eat  his  food,  stoop  for  a  pin,  chop  a  stick,  or  cast  his  eyes  on  any- 
thing," but  the  hateful  words  were  heard,  not  once  only,  but  a  hundred  times  over,  as  fast 
as  a  man  could  speak,  "  Sell  him,  sell  him,  sell  him !"  and  like  his  own  Christian  in  the  dark  valley, 
he  could  not  determine  whether  they  were  suggestions  of  the  Wicked  One  or  came  from  his  own 
heart.  The  agony  was  so  intense,  while  for  hours  together  he  struggled  with  the  temptation,  that 
his  whole  body  was  convulsed  with  it.  It  was  no  metaphorical,  but  an  actual,  wrestling  with 
a  tangible  enemy.  He  "pushed  and  thrust  with  his  hands  and  elbows,"  and  kept  still  answering, 
as  fast  as  the  destroyer  said,  "Sell  Him,"  "No,  I  will  not,  I  will  not,  I  will  not!  not  for  thousands, 
thousands,  thousands  of  worlds !"  at  least  twenty  times  together.  But  the  fatal  moment  came 
at  last,  and  the  wearied  will  yielded  against  itself.  One  morning  as  he  lay  in  his  bed,  the  voice 
came  again  with  redoubled  force  and  would  not  be  silenced.  He  fought  against  it  as  long 
as  he  could,  "  even  until  I  was  almost  out  of  breath,"  when  "  without  any  conscious  action 
of  his  will"  the  suicidal  words  shaped  themselves  in  his  heart,  "  Let  Him  go  if  He  will !" 

Now  all  was  over.     He  had  spoken  the  words  and  they  could  not  be  recalled.     Satan  had 


22  LIFE  OF  BUNYAN. 

"won  the  battle,"  and  "as  a  bird  that  is  shot  from  the  top  of  a  tree,  down  fell  he  into  great  guilt 
and  fearful  despair."  He  left  his  bed,  dressed,  and  went  "  moping  into  the  field,"  where  for  the 
next  two  hours  he  was  "  like  a  man  bereft  of  life,  and  as  one  past  all  recovery  and  bound  to  eternal 
punishment."  The  most  terrible  examples  in  the  Bible  came  trooping  before  him.  He  had  sold 
his  birthright  like  Esau.  He  had  betrayed  his  Master  like  Judas.  "  I  was  ashamed  that  I  should 
be  like  such  an  ugly  man  as  Judas."  There  was  no  longer  any  place  for  repentance.  He  was 
past  all  recovery,  shut  up  unto  the  judgment  to  come.  He  hardly  dared  to  pray.  When  he  tried 
to  do  so  he  was  "  as  with  a  tempest  driven  away  from  God,"  while  something  within  said,  "  'T  is 
too  late;  I  am  lost;  God  hath  let  me  fall."  The  texts  which  once  comforted  him  gave  him 
no  comfort  now,  or  if  they  did  it  was  but  for  a  brief  space.  "  About  ten  or  eleven  o'clock  one  day, 
as  I  was  walking  under  a  hedge  and  bemoaning  myself  for  this  hard  hap  that  such  a  thought 
should  arise  within  me,  suddenly  this  sentence  bolted  upon  me,  '  The  blood  of  Jesus  Christ,  his 
Son,  cleanseth  us  from  all  sin,'  and  gave  me  good  encouragement."  But  in  two  or  three  hours 
all  was  gone.  The  terrible  words  concerning  Esau's  selling  his  birthright  took  possession  of  his 
mind  and  "  held  him  down."  This  "  stuck  with  him."  "  Though  he  sought  it  carefully  with 
tears,"  there  was  no  restoration  for  him.  His  agony  received  a  terrible  aggravation  from  a  highly 
colored  narrative  of  the  terrible  death  of  Francis  Spira,  an  Italian  lawyer  of  the  sixteenth  century, 
who,  having  embraced  the  Protestant  religion,  was  induced  by  worldly  motives  to  return  to  the 
Romish  Church,  and  died  full  of  remorse  and  despair,  from  which  Bunyan  afterward  drew  the 
awful  picture  of  "  the  man  in  the  iron  cage  "  at  "  the  Interpreter's  house."  The  reading  of  this 
book  was  to  his  troubled  spirit  as  "  salt  when  rubbed  into  a  fresh  wound,"  "  as  knives  and  daggers 
in  his  soul."  We  cannot  wonder  that  his  health  began  to  give  way  under  so  protracted  a  struggle. 
His  naturally  sturdy  frame  was  "  shaken  by  a  continual  trembling."  He  would  "  wind  and  twine 
and  shrink  under  his  burden,"  the  weight  of  which  so  crushed  him  that  he  "  could  neither  stand 
nor  go  nor  lie,  either  at  rest  or  quiet. "  His  digestion  became  disordered,  and  a  pain  "  as  if  his 
breast-bone  would  have  split  asunder"  made  him  fear  that  as  he  had  been  guilty  of  Judas' 
sin,  so  he  was  to  perish  by  Judas'  end,  and  "  burst  asunder  in  the  midst."  No  one  was  ever 
so  bad  as  he.  When  he  compared  his  sins  with  those  of  David  and  Solomon  and  Manasseh  and 
others,  which  had  been  pardoned,  he  thought  his  sin  so  much  exceeded  theirs  that  he  could  have 
no  hope  of  pardon.  Theirs,  "  it  was  true,  were  great  sins,  sins  of  a  bloody  color,  but  none 
of  them  were  of  the  nature  of  his.  He  had  sold  his  Saviour.  His  sin  was  point-blank  against 
Christ."  "  Oh,  methought  this  sin  was  bigger  than  the  sins  of  a  country,  of  a  kingdom,  or  of  the 
whole  world ;  not  all  of  them  together  was  able  to  equal  mine ;  mine  outwent  them  every  one." 

It  was  more  than  two  years  before  this  storm  became  a  calm,  and  its  waves,  which  he 
thought  were  driving  his  soul  upon  the  rocks  of  despair,  bore  him  to  the  "  haven  where  he 
would  be."  He  had  heard,  as  he  thought,  the  tempter  bidding  him  "  sell  Christ ;"  and  he  thought 
he.  heard  God  "  with  a  great  voice  as  it  were,  over  his  shoulder  behind  him,"  saying,  "  Return 
unto  me,  for  I  have  redeemed  thee ;"  and  though  he  thought  it  mocked  him,  for  there  was  no 
"place  of  repentance"  for  him,  it  still  pursued  him,  "hallooing  after  him,  'Return,  return!'" 
And  return  he  did,  but  not  all  at  once  or  without  many  a  fresh  struggle.  Hot  and  cold  fits 
alternated  with  fearful  suddenness.  "As  Esau  beat  him  down  Christ  raised  him  up."  "  His  life 
hung  in  doubt,  not  knowing  which  way  he  should  tip."  More  sensible  evidence  came.  "  One 
day,"  he  tells  us,  "as  I  walked  to  and  fro  in  a  good  man's  shop,  bemoaning  myself  for  this 
hard  hap  of  mine,  for  that  I  should  commit  so  great  a  sin,  greatly  fearing  that  I  should  not  be 
pardoned,  and  ready  to  sink  with  fear,  suddenly  there  was  as  if  there  had  rushed  in  at  the 


'""'Illlllllll 

BRONZE  STATUE,  AT  BEDFORD,  ERECTED  BY  THE  DUKE  OF  BEDFORD. 


24  LIFE  OF  BUNYAN. 

window  the  noise  of  wind  upon  me,  but  very  pleasant,  and  I  heard  a  voice  speaking,  '  Didst 
ever  refuse  to  be  justified  by  the  blood  of  Christ?'"  Whether  the  voice  were  supernatural  or 
not,  he  was  not  "  in  twenty  years'  time  "  able  to  determine.  At  the  time  he  thought  it  was.  It 
was  "as  if  an  angel  had  come  upon  me."  "  It  commanded  a  great  calm  upon  me.  It  persuaded 
me  there  might  yet  be  hope." 

Yet  this  persuasion  soon  vanished,  and  despair  returned.  "  My  life  hung  in  doubt  before  me, 
not  knowing  which  way  I  should  go ;  only  this  I  found  my  soul's  desire,  even  to  cast  itself  at  the 
foot  of  grace  by  prayer  and  supplication.  But  oh,  it  was  hard  for  me  now  to  have  the  face  to 
pray  to  this  Christ  for  mercy  against  whom  I  had  so  vilely  sinned ;  yet,  my  case  being  desperate, 
I  thought  with  myself,  I  can  but  die,  and  if  it  must  be  so,  it  shall  once  be  said  that  such  a  one 
died  at  the  foot  of  Christ  in  prayer." 

"  Oh,  who  knows  how  hard  a  thing  I  found  it  to  come  to  God  in  prayer  !  I  did  also  desire 
the  prayers  of  the  people  of  God  for  me,  but  I  found  that  God  would  give  them  no  heart  to  do  it : 
yea,  I  trembled  in  my  soul  to  think  that  some  or  other. of  them  would  shortly  tell  me  that  God 
had  said  those  words  to  them  that  he  once  did  say  to  the  prophet  concerning  the  children  of 
Israel,  '  Pray  not  for  this  people,  for  I  will  not  hear  them,'  so  pray  not  for  him,  for  I  have 
rejected  him." 

In  his  despair  he  "  took  an  opportunity  to  break  his  mind  to  an  ancient  Christian,  and  told 
him  all  his  case,"  telling  him  also  that  he  feared  he  "  had  sinned  the  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost," 
to  which  the  ancient  Christian  replied  that  he  "  thought  so  too."  Here  was  "  cold  comfort,"  but 
a  little  further  conversation  revealed  that  his  aged  counsellor  was  "a  stranger  to  much  combat 
with  the  devil,"  in  which,  surely,  Bunyan  was  well  practised.  "  Wherefore  I  went  to  God  again, 
as  well  as  I  could,  for  mercy  still."  Years  after  he  remembered  how,  "  in  this  time  of  hopeless- 
ness, having  walked  one  day  to  a  neighboring  town,"  wearied  out  with  his  misery  he  "  sat  down 
upon  a  settee  in  the  street  and  fell  into  a  very  deep  pause  about  the  most  fearful  state  his  sin  had 
brought  him  to."  The  "sun  grudged  him  its  light,  the  very  stones  in  the  street  and  the  tiles  on 
the  house-roofs  seemed  to  bend  themselves  against  him."  He  burst  forth  with  a  grievous  sigh, 
"  How  can  God  comfort  such  a  wretch  as  I  ?" 

Comfort  was  nearer  than  he  imagined.  "  No  sooner  had  I  said  it  but  this  returned  to  me  as 
an  echo  doth  answer  a  voice,  'This  sin  is  not  unto  death.'"  This  breathed  fresh  life  into  his 
soul.  He  was  "  as  if  he  had  been  raised  out  of  the  grave."  "  It  was  a  release  to  me  from  my 
former  bonds,  a  shelter  from  my  former  storm."  The  storm  was,  indeed,  not  over,  though  its 
strength  was  spent.  His  despairing  thoughts  returned,  but  after  them  returned  his  hopes.  As 
he  was  on  his  knees  before  going  to  bed  a  few  nights  later,  "  seeking  the  Lord  with  strong  cries," 
a  voice  echoed  his  prayers,  "  I  have  loved  thee  with  an  everlasting  love."  "  Now  I  went  to  bed 
at  quiet,  and  when  I  awoke  the  next  morning  it  was  fresh  upon  my  soul  and  I  believed  it." 

Thus  he  "  went  on  for  many  weeks,  sometimes  comforted  and  sometimes  tormented,"  some- 
times believing  in  the  sufficiency  of  grace,  and  again  tortured  by  the  recollections  of  Esau,  the 
two  being  "  like  a  pair  of  scales  within  my  mind — sometimes  one  end  would  be  uppermost  and 
sometimes  again  the  other,  according  to  which  would  be  my  trouble."  Again  his  soul  was 
"  sweetly  visited  "  by  the  promise,  "  Him  that  cometh  to  me  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out."  Yet  he 
did  not  long  enjoy  this  comfort,  for  "  Satan  would  greatly  labor  to  pull  this  promise  from  me,  by 
telling  me  that  Christ  did  not  mean  me  and  such  as  I,  but  sinners  of  a  lower  rank,  that  had  not 
done  as  I  had  done.  But  I  would  answer  him  again,  '  Satan,  here  is  in  these  words  no  such 
exception ;  but  him  that  cometh — him,  any  him  ;  him  that  cometh  to  me  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out* 


LIFE  OF  BUN  VAN.  2$ 

If  ever  Satan  and  I  did  strive  for  any  word  of  God  in  all  my  life,  it  was  for  this  good  word  of 
Christ — he  at  one  end  and  I  at  the  other.  Oh,  what  work  we  made  !  It  was  for  this  in  John,  I 
say,  that  we  did  so  tug  and  strive ;  he  pulled  and  I  pulled,  but  God  be  praised,  I  overcame  him ; 
I  got  sweetness  from  it." 

These  voices  from  heaven — whether  real  or  not  he  could  not  tell,  nor  did  he  much  care,  for 
they  were  real  to  him — were  continually  sounding  in  his  ears  to  help  him  out  of  the  fresh  crises 
of  his  spiritual  disorder.  "  O  man,  great  is  thy  faith."  "  He  is  able."  "  My  grace  is  sufficient 
for  thee:"  such  words  were  from  time  to  time  spoken  loudly  to  his  heart.  The  storm  was 
passing  over.  "  Now  remained  only  the  hinder  part  of  the  tempest.  The  thunder  was  gone'; 
only  a  few  drops  fell  on  him  now  and  then." 

The  long-expected  deliverance  was  at  hand.  As  he  was  walking  in  the  fields,  still  with  some 
fears  in  his  heart,  the  sentence  fell  upon  his  soul,  "  Thy  righteousness  is  in  heaven."  He  looked 
up  and  "saw  with  the  eyes  of  his  soul  our  Saviour  at  God's  right  hand."  "There,  I  say,  was 
my  righteousness,  so  that  wherever  I  .was,  or  whatever  I  was  a-doing,  God  could  not  say 
of  me,  'He  wants  my  righteousness,'  for  that  was  just  before  him.  Now  did  the  chains  fall  off  from 
my  legs.  I  was  loosed  from  my  affliction  and  irons.  My  temptations  also  fled  away,  so  that 
from  that  time  those  dreadful  Scriptures  left  off"  to  trouble  me.  Oh,  methought,  Christ !  Christ ! 
there  was  nothing  but  Christ  that  was  before  mine  eyes.  I  could  look  from  myself  to  him  and 
would  reckon  that  all  those  graces  of  God  that  now  were  green  upon  me  were  yet  but  like  those 
crack-groats  and  fourpence-half-pennies  that  rich  men  carry  in  their  purses,  while  their  gold 
is  in  their  trunks  at  home.  Oh,  I  saw  my  gold  was  in  my  trunk  at  home,  in  Christ,  my  Lord  and 
Saviour.  Further,  the  Lord  did  lead  me  into  the  mystery  of  union  with  the  Son  of  God.  His 
righteousness  was  mine,  his  merits  mine,  his  victory  also  mine.  Now  I  could  see  myself  in  heaven 
and  earth  at  once ;  in  heaven  by  my  Christ,  by  my  Head,  by  my  Righteousness  and  Life,  though 
on  earth  by  my  body  or  person.  These  blessed  considerations  were  made  to  spangle  in  mine 
eyes.  Christ  was  my  all,  all  my  wisdom,  all  my  righteousness,  all  my  sanctification,  and  all 
my  redemption." 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  Pilgrim,  having  now  floundered  through  the  Slough  of  Despond,  passed  through  the 
wicket  gate,  climbed  the  Hill  Difficulty,  and  got  safe  by  the  lions,  entered  the  Palace  Beautiful  and 
was  "  had  into  the  family."  In  plain  words,  Bunyan  united  himself  to  the  little  Christian  brother- 
hood of  Bedford,  of  which  Mr.  Giffbrd  was  the  pastor.  In  Giffbrd  we  recognize  the  prototype 
of  the  Evangelist  of  "  The  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  while  the  Prudence,  Piety,  and  Charity  of  Bunyan's 
immortal  narrative  had  their  human  representatives  in  Sister  Bosworth,  Sister  Munnes,  and  Sister 
Fenne,  three  of  the  poor  women  whose  pleasant  words  on  the  things  of  God  as  they  sat  at  a  door- 
way in  the  sun,  "  as  if  joy  did  make  them  speak,"  had  first  opened  Bunyan's  eyes  to  his  spiritual 
ignorance.  He  was  received  into  the  church  by  baptism  about  the  year  1653;  the  exact  date 
ls~uhcertain.  He  was  also  admitted  to  the  Lord's  table,  which  for  a  time  became  the  occasion 
of  a  revival  of  his  old  temptations.  The  struggle  against  them  seriously  affected  his  health. 
"  Captain  Consumption,"  who  carried  off"  his  own  "  Mr.  Badman,"  threatened  his  life.  But  his 
naturally  robust  constitution  and  his  constantly  increasing  spiritual  strength  brought  him  safely 
through. 
4 


26 


LIFE  OF  BUN  VAN. 


During  this  time  Bunyan,  though  a  member  of  the  Bedford  congregation,  continued  to  reside 
at  Elstow  in  the  little  thatched  wayside  tenement,  with  its  lean-to  forge  at  one  end,  already  men- 
tioned, which  is  still  pointed  out  as  "  Bunyan's  cottage."  There  his  two  children,  Mary,  his 
passionately  loved  blind  daughter,  and  Elizabeth,  were  born,  the  one  in  1650,  the  other  in  1654. 
It  was  probably  in  the  next  year,  1655,  that  he  removed  to  Bedford  and  became  a  deacon  of  the, 
congregation.  About  this  time  also  he  must  have  lost  the  wife  to  whom  he  owed  so  much. 
He  sustained  also  an  even  greater  loss  in  the  death  of  his  friend  and  pastor,  Mr.  Gifford,  who  died 
in  September,  1655. 

This  was  a  momentous  year  for  Bunyan,  for  in  it  we  may  probably  place  the  beginning  of  his 
ministerial  life.     He  was  now  in  his  twenty-eighth  year,  in  the  prime  of  his  manly  vigor,  with 
a  vivid  imagination,  ready  speech,  a  minute  textual  knowledge  of  Scripture,  and  an  experience 
of  temptation  and  the  wiles  of  the  evil  one  such  as  few  Christians  have  ever  reached.     At  first  the 
call  to  "speak  a  word  of  exhortation  "  did  much  "  dash  and  abash  his  spirit,"  but  after  a  few  trials, 
first  in  private  and   then  more  publicly,  it  became  evident,  both  to  himself  and  to  others,  that , 
he  had  a  real  divine  call  to  the  ministry.     His  appointment  to  this  office  was  not  long  delayed. 
After  "  some  solemn  prayer  with  fasting  "  he  was  "  called  forth  and  appointed  a  preacher  of  the 
Word,"  with  especial  reference 
to  the  neighboring  villages.    An 
old  and  unique  etching,  now  in 
the    Bunyan  Collection,   repre- 
sents   him    as    preaching  to   a 
crowd  on  Elstow  green  in  front 
of  Moot  Hall.     He  still  contin- 
ued his   craft  as  a  tinker,  and 
that  with  industry  and  success, 
while   his   fame   as  a   preacher 
grew  rapidly.      People    "  came 
in    by    hundreds    to    hear    the 
word,  and  that  from   all  parts, 
though  upon  sundry  and  divers 
accounts."      His  success  hum- 
bled   and   amazed    him.       "At 
first,"  he  says,  "  I  could  not  be- 
lieve that  God  should  speak  by 
me   to   the   heart  of  any  man, 

still  counting  myself  unworthy ;  and  though  I  did  put  it  from  me  that  they  should  be  awakened 
by  me,  still  they  would  confess  it  and  affirm  it  before  the  saints  of  God.  They  would  also  bless 
God  for  me,  unworthy  wretch  that  I  am,  and  count  me  God's  instrument  that  showed  them  the 
way  of  salvation." 

He  preached  wherever  he  found  opportunity,  in  woods,  in  barns,  on  village  greens,  or  even 
in  churches.  But  he  liked  best  to  preach  "  in  the  darkest  places  of  the  country,  where  people 
were  the  furthest  off  from  profession,"  where  he  could  give  the  fullest  scope  to  the  "  awakening 
and  converting  power"  he  possessed.  His  success  as  a  preacher  might  have  tempted  him 
to  vanity.  J3nt_frhe  conviction  that  he  was  only  an  instrument  in  the  hands  of  a  higher  power  kept 
it  down.  He  was  still  not  without  his  old  temptations,  but  his  heart  was  "  so  wrapped  up  in  the 


MOOT   HALL,    COURTHOUSE   AND   MANOR. 


LIFE  OF  BUN  VAN.  27 

glory  of  this  excellent  work "  that  they  lost  their  power.  Bunyan  was  no  preacher  of  vague 
generalities.  Like  Dante  he  had  been  in  hell  himself,  and  could  speak  as  one  who  knew  its  terrors, 
and  could  tell  also  of  the  blessedness  of  deliverance  by  the  person  and  work  of  Christ.  And  this 
consciousness  gave  him  confidence  and  courage  in  declaring  his  message.  "Oh,  it  Iiath  been  with 
such  power  and  heavenly  evidence  upon  my  own  soul  while  I  have  been  laboring  to  fasten  it  upon 
the  conscience  of  others,  that  I  could  not  be  content  with  saying,  '  I  believe  and  am  sure.' 
Methought  I  was  more  than  sure,  if  it  be  lawful  so  to  express  myself,  that  the  things  I  asserted 
were  true." 

The  fame  of  such  a  preacher,  naturally,  soon  spread  far  and  wide ;  all  the  country  flocked 
eagerly  to    hear    him.      In  some   places  the   pulpits  of  parish  churches  were  opened    to  him. 
At  Yelden   the  rector,  Dr.  William   Dell,  roused    the    indignation  of  his  orthodox  parishioners 
by  allowing  "  one  Bunyan,  of  Bedford,  a  tinker,"  to  preach  in  his  parish  church  on  Christmas  day. 
But  generally  the  parochial  clergy  were  his  bitterest  enemies.     Many  were  envious  of  his  success^ 
where  they  had  so  signally  failed.     Slanders  of  the  blackest  dye  against  his  moral  character  were 
freely  circulated  and  as  readily  believed.     Such  charges  roused  all  the  man  in  Bunyan.     Few 
passages  in  his  writings  show  more  passion  than  that  in  "  Grace  Abounding"  in  which  he  defends^ 
himself  from  the  "  fools  or  knaves  "  who  were  their  authors. 

So  bitter  was  the  feeling  aroused  against  him  by  the  marvellous  success  of  his  irregular 
ministry  that  his  enemies  endeavored  to  put  the  arm  of  the  law  in  motion  to  restrain  him. 
It  is  an  instructive  fact  that,  even  during  the  boasted  religious  liberty  of  the  Protectorate,  irregular 
preaching,  especially  that  of  the  much-dreaded  Anabaptists,  was  an  indictable  offence.  How 
Bunyan  came  to  escape  we  know  not.  But  the  danger  he  was  in  was  imminent  enough  for  the 
church  at  Bedford  to  meet  to  pray  "for  counsail  what  to  doe"  in  respect  of  it. 

It  was  in  these  closing  years  of  the  Protectorate  that  Bunyan  made  his  first  attempt  at  author-  ' 
ship,  impelled  thereto  by  a  long  and  tiresome  controversy  with  the  Quakers,  who  had  recently 
found  their  way  to  Bedford.  It  was  a  little  volume  in  duodecimo  of  about  two  hundred  pages, 
entitled  "  Some  Gospel  Truths  Opened,  by  that  unworthy  servant  of  Christ,  John  Bunyan,  of  Bed- 
ford, by  the  grace  of  God,  preacher  of  the  gospel  of  His  dear  Son,"  published  in  1656.  Bunyan 
being  entirely  unknown  to  the  world,  his  first  literary  venture  was  introduced  by  a  commendatory 
"Epistle"  written  by  Gifford's  successor,  John  Burton,  in  which  he  speaks  of  the  young  author 
as  one  who  had  "neither  the  greatness  nor  the  wisdom  of  the  world  to  commend  him,"  "not  being 
chosen  out  of  an  earthly,  but  out  of  a  heavenly  university,  the  Church  of  Christ,"  where  "through 
grace  he  had  taken  three  heavenly  degrees,  to  wit,  union  with  Christ,  the  anointing  of  the  Spirit, 
and  experience  of  the  temptations  of  Satan."  This  book  must  be  pronounced  a  very  remarkable 
production  for  a  young  travelling  tinker,  under  thirty,  and  without  any  literary  or  theological 
training  but  such  as  he  had  gained  for  himself  after  attaining  to  manhood.  It  is  a  defence  of 
the  historical  truth  of  the  articles  of  the  creed  relating  to  the  Second  Person  of  the  Trinity, 
against  certain  mystical  teachings  of  George  Fox,  who  made  the  gospel  narrative  a  vehicle  for 
the  representation  of  truths  relating  to  the  inner  life  of  the  believer. 

Bunyan's  denunciation  of  the  tenets  of  the  Quakers   speedily  elicited   a   reply This  was 

written  by  a  certain  Edward  Burrough,  a  young  man  of  three  and  twenty,  fearless,  devoted,  and 
ardent  in  the  propagation  of  the  tenets  he  professed.  The  reply,  entitled  "  The  Gospel  of  Peace 
contended  for  in  the  Spirit  of  Meekness  and  Love,  against  the  secret  opposition  of  John  Bunyan, 
a  professed  minister  in  Bedfordshire,"  reveals  some  lack  of  the  meekness  professed.  Bunyan 
promptly  published  his  rejoinder  under  the  title  of  "  A  Vindication  of  Gospel  Truths  Opened," 


28  LIFE  OF  BUNYAN. 

repaying  Burrough  in  his  own  coin  and  defending  himself  from  his  charges.  Yet  he  and  his  oppo- 
nent were  really  not  so  far  apart  as  they  thought. 

In  his  third  book,  published  in  1658  at  "the  King's  Head,  in  the  Old  Bailey,"  a  few  days 
before  Oliver  Cromwell's  death,  Bunyan  left  the  thorny  domain  of  polemics  for  that  of  Christian 
exhortation,  in  which  his  chief  work  was  to  be  done.  This  work  was  an  exposition  of  the  parable 
of  the  rich  man  and  Lazarus,  bearing  the  horror-striking  title,  "A  Few  Sighs  from  Hell,  or  the 
Groans  of  a  Damned  Soul."  In  this  work  Bunyan,  accepting  the  literal  accuracy  of  the  parable 
as  a  description  of  the  world  beyond  the  grave,  gives  full  scope  to  his  vivid  imagination  in  por- 
traying the  condition  of  the  lost.  It  contains  some  touches  of  racy  humor,  especially  in  the 
similes,  and  is  written  in  the  nervous,  homespun  English  of  which  he  is  master. 

The  fourth  production  of  Bunyan's  pen,  his  last  book  before  his  twelve  years  of  prison  life 
began,  entitled  "  The  Doctrine  of  Law  and  Grace  Unfolded,"  was  given  to  the  world  in  1659. 
With  a  somewhat  overstrained  humility  which  is  hardly  worthy  of  him,  he  describes  himself  in  the 
title-page  as  "that  poor,  contemptible  creature  John  Bunyan,  of  Bedford."  It  cannot  be  said  that 
this  is  one  of  Bunyan's  most  attractive  writings.  It  is,  as  he  describes  it,  "  a  parcel  of  plain  yet 
sound,  true,  and  home  sayings,"  in  which,  with  that  clearness  of  thought  and  accuracy  of  arrange- 
ment which  belong  to  him,  and  that  marvellous  acquaintance  with  Scripture  language  which 
he  had  gained  by  his  constant  study  of  the  Bible,  he  sets  forth  the  two  covenants,  of  works  and 
of  grace,  "  in  their  natures,  ends,  bounds,  together  with  the  state  and  condition  of  them  that  are 
under  the  one,  and  of  them  that  are  under  the  other."  The  treatise  is  somewhat  wearisome,  but 
the  pious  reader  will  find  much  in  it  for  spiritual  edification. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

IF  any  dreams  of  religious  liberty  were  entertained  at  the  restoration  of  monarchy  in  the 
person  of  Charles  II.,  they  were  speedily  and  rudely  dispelled,  and  Bunyan  was  one  of  the  first  to 
feel  the  shock  of  the  awakening.  The  reaction  from  Puritanism  pervaded  all  ranks,  but  in  no  - 
class  was  its  influence  more  powerful  than  among  the  country  gentry.  Most  of  them  had  been 
sufferers  both  in  purse  and  person  during  the  Protectorate,  and  they  were  eager  to  retaliate  on 
their  oppressors.  This  feeling  goes  far  to  explain  the  harshness  which  Bunyan  experienced  at 
the  hands  of  the  administrators  of  justice  at  the  crisis  of  his  life  at  which  we  have  now  arrived. 
Those  before  whom  he  was  successively  arraigned  belonged  to  this  very  class  which,  having 
suffered  most  severely  during  Puritan  supremacy,  was  least  likely  to  show  consideration  to  a 
leading  teacher  of  the  Puritan  body.  Nor  were  reasons  wanting  to  justify  their  severity.  The 
circumstances  of  the  times  were  critical.  The  public  mind  was  still  in  an  excitable  state,  agitated 
by  the  wild  schemes  of  political  and  religious  enthusiasts  plotting  to  destroy  the  whole  existing 
framework  of  Church  and  State  and  set  up  their  own  chimerical  fabric.  We  cannot  be  surprised 
that,  as  Southey  has  said,  after  all  the  nation  had  suffered  from  fanatical  zeal,  "  The  Government, 
rendered  suspicious  by  the  constant  sense  of  danger,  was  led  as  much  by  fear  as  by  resentment  to 
severities  which  are  explained  by  the  necessities  of  self-defence,"  and  which  the  nervous  appre- 
hensions of  the  nation  not  only  condoned  but  incited. 

No  new  enactment  was  required,  to  punish  Nonconformists  and  silence  their  ministers. 
The  various  Acts  of  Elizabeth  supplied  all  that  was  needed.  Under  these  Acts  those  who 
absented  themselves  from  the  Liturgical  service  or  who  resorted  to  conventicles  were  to  be 


LIFE  OF  BUN  VAN. 


29 


BUNYAN'S  ARREST. 


imprisoned  till  they  made  their  submissions ;  if  at  the  end  of  three  months  they  refused  to  submit, 
they  were  to  be  banished  the  realm  ;  and  if  they  returned  from  banishment  without  permission 
of  the  Crown,  they  were  liable  to  execution  as  felons. 

Early  in  October,  1660,  the  country  magistrates  meeting  in  Bedford  issued  an  order  for  the 
public  reading  of  the  Liturgy  of  the  Church  of  England.  Such  an  order  Bunyan  could  not 
regard  as  concerning  him.  Anyhow  he  would  not  give  obeying  it  a  thought.  But  Bunyan  was 


30  LIFE  OF  BUNYAN. 

now  one  of  the  most  conspicuous  of  the  Nonconformists  of  the  neighborhood.  He  had 
preached  for  five  or  six  years  with  ever-growing  popularity.  No  name  was  so  rife  in  men's 
mouths  as  his.  At  him,  therefore,  as  the  representative  of  his  brother  sectaries,  the  first  blow 
was  levelled.  On  November  12  Bunyan  had  engaged  to  hold  a  religious  service  in  the  little 
hamlet  of  Lower  Samsell,  near  Harlington.  His  purpose  becoming  known,  a  warrant  was  issued 
for  his  apprehension,  the  meeting  being  represented  to  the  magistrate  as  one  of  seditious  persons 
bringing  arms,  with  a  view  to  the  disturbance  of  the  public  peace. 

The  intention  to  arrest  him  oozed  out,  and  on  Bunyan's  arrival  the  whisperings  of  his  friends 
warned  him  of  his  danger.     He  might  have  easily  escaped  if  he  "  had  been  minded  to  play  the  • 
coward."     But  he  had  come  to  hold  the  meeting,  and  hold  the  meeting  he  would.     He  had  given 
out  his  text  when  the  constable  arrived  with  the  warrant.     Bunyan  requested  to  be  allowed  to  say  < 
a  few  parting  words  of  encouragement  to  the  terrified  flock.     This  was  granted,  and  he  comforted 
the  little  company  with  the  reflection  that  it  was  a  mercy  to  suffer  in  so  good  a  cause.     The 
constable  and  the  justice's  servant  soon  grew  weary  of  his  exhortations,  and  "would  not  be  quiet 
till  they  had  him  away  "  from  the  house. 

A  few  inquiries  showed  the  magistrate  who  had  issued  the  warrant  that  he  had  entirely  mis- 
taken the  character  of  the  Samsell  meeting  and  its  object.  Instead  of  a  gathering  of  "  Fifth 
Monarchy  men  "  or  other  turbulent  fanatics  for  the  disturbance  of  the  public  peace,  he  learned 
from  the  constable  that  they  were  only  a  few  peaceable,  harmless  people,  met  together  "  to  preach 
and  hear  the  Word,"  without  any  political  meaning.  But  for  the  credit  of  his  majesterial  char- 
acter the  justice  must  do  something  to  justify  himself  for  having  issued  the  warrant.  So  he 
asked  Bunyan  what  business  he  had  there,  and  why  it  was  not  enough  for  him  to  follow  his  own 
calling  instead  of  breaking  the  law  by  preaching.  Bunyan  replied  that  his  only  object  in  coming 
there  was  to  exhort  his  hearers  for  their  souls'  sake  to  forsake  their  sinful  courses  and  close  in/ 
with  Christ,  and  this  he  could  do  and  follow  his  own  calling  as  well.  At  this  the  justice  lost 
temper,  and  declared  that  he  would  "break  the  neck  of  these  unlawful  meetings,"  and  that 
Bunyan  must  find  securities  for  his  good  behavior  or  go  to  gaol. 

To  find  security  would  be  easy  enough,  but  the  real  difficulty  lay  with  Bunyan.  No  bond 
would  be  strong  enough  to  keep  him  from  preaching,  as  he  frankly  avowed.  This  being  the  case,  ' 
a  warrant  was  made  out  to  commit  him,  and  Bunyan  in  the  constable's  charge  was  on  his  way 
to  gaol,  when  he  was  met  by  two  of  his  friends  who  begged  the  constable  to  wait  while  they 
used  their  influence  to  get  him  released.  They  finally  returned  with  the  message  that  if  Bunyan 
would  wait  on  the  magistrate  and  "say  certain  words"  to  him,  he  might  go  free.  To  Harlington 
House,  therefore,  they  returned,  and  much  time  was  spent  in  devising  a  form  of  words  which 
Bunyan  would  consent  to  utter.  The  magistrate  evidently  wished  him  to  escape,  but  Bunyan 
would  make  no  promise  of  which,  though  he  might  keep  the  letter,  he  intended  to  violate  the 
spirit.  He  was  asked  to  promise  "that  he  would  not  call  the  people  together,"  a  form  of  words 
purposely  devised  to  meet  his  scrupulous  conscience,  but  in  vain.  He  was  "at  a  point,  and 
would  not  be  moved  or  persuaded  "  to  evasion,  and  so  at  last  the  mittimus  was  again  put  into 
the  constable's  hands,  and  he  and  his  prisoner  set  forth  on  the  thirteen-mile  walk  to  the  prison 
which  was  to  be  Bunyan's  home  for  twelve  long  years,  and  to  which  he  went  carrying,  he  says, 
the  "  peace  of  God  along  with  me  and  his  comfort  in  my  poor  soul." 


LIFE  OF  BUNYAN.  31 

CHAPTER  V. 

BUNYAN'S  imprisonment,  though  protracted,  was  by  no  means  harsh,  as  the  times  went. 
Bedford  gaol,  though  found  by  Howard  a  century  later  in  what  would  now  be  justly  deemed  a 
disgraceful  condition,  was  better  than  some,  and  Bunyan  in  the  narrative  of  his  imprisonment 
makes  no  complaint  of  it.  Nor  do  we  hear  of  his  health  suffering  in  any  way  from  the  condition 
of  his  confinement,  as  was  the  case  with  not  a  few  sufferers  for  religion  in  other  English  gaols  at 
that  time.  Bad  as  it  must  have  been  to  be  a  prisoner,  there  is  no  evidence  that  his  imprisonment 
was  aggravated  by  any  special  severity. 

The  arrest  of  one  whose  work  as  a  preacher  had  been  a  blessing  to  so  many  was  not  at 
once  tamely  acquiesced  in  by  the  religious  body  to  which  he  belonged.  Attempts  were  made  to 
bail  him  out,  but  in  vain,  the  magistrate  fearing  to  compromise  himself  by  letting  him  go  at  large. 
Seven  weeks  after  his  committal  the  Quarter  Sessions  came  on,  and  John  Bunyan,  of  the  town  of 
Bedford,  laborer,  was  indited  in  the  customary  form  for  having  "  devilishly  and  perniciously 
abstained  from  coming  to  church  to  hear  divine  service/'  and  as  "  a  common  upholder  of  several  " 
unlawful  meetings  and  conventions,  to  the  great  disturbance  and  distraction  of  the  good  subjects 
of  the  kingdom."  The  chairman  of  the  bench  was  the  brutal  and  blustering  Sir  John  Keeling, 
the  prototype  of  Banyan's  Lord  Hategood  in  Faithful's  trial  at  Vanity  Fair!  Keeling  had 
suffered  much  from  the  Puritans  during  the  great  Rebellion,  when,  according  to  Clarendon,  he 
was  "always  in  gaol,"  and  was  by  no  means  disposed  to  deal  leniently  with  an  offender  of  that 
persuasion.  His  brethren  of  the  bench  were  like-minded,  but  even  if  that  had  not  been,  Bunyan's 
attitude  forbade  any  leniency.  As  the  law  stood  he  had  indisputably  broken  it,  and  he  expressed 
his  determination  to  take  the  first  opportunity  of  breaking  it  again.  "  I  told  them  that  if  I  was 
let  out  of  prison  to-day  I  would  preach  the  gospel  again  to-morrow  by  the  help  of  God."  There 
was  no  alternative  but  to  sentence  him,  and  though  the  sentence  might  have  been  pronounced 
with  less  reluctance,  there  is  no  evidence  of  any  desire  on  the  part  of  the  magistrates  to  push 
matters  to  extremity.  The  sentence  was  for  three  months,  after  which,  "  if  he  still  refused  to  go 
to  church  and  hear  divine  service  and  leave  his  preaching,  he  was  to  be  banished  the  realm,"  and 
if  "  he  came  back  again  without  special  royal  license  "  he  must  "stretch  by  the  neck  for  it." 

The  three  months  named  in  his  sentence  were  fast  drawing  to  an  end  without  any  sign  of  - 
submission  on  his  part,  and  Mr.  Cobb,  the  Clerk  of  the  Peace,  was  sent  to  reason  with  him,  and 
did  his  best  to  that  end.  But  Cobb  did  not  profess  to  be  "  a  man  that  could  dispute,"  and  Bunyan 
had  the  better  of  him  in  argument,  though  Cobb's  position  was  unassailable.  In  the  then  state  of 
the  realm  there  was  danger  to  the  public  peace  in  permitting  fanatical  gatherings  to  assemble 
unchecked,  and  loyalty  forbade  them,  though  there  was  no  reason  why  Bunyan  should  not  use  his 
gifts  in  a  private  way.  But  all  Cobb's  reasonings  and  expostulations  were  ineffectual  to  bring 
Bunyan  to  this  concession,  and  he  at  last  said  it  was  no  use  to  prolong  the  argument.  "  At  this," 
writes  Bunyan,  "  he  sat  down  and  said  no  more ;  which  when  he  had  done,  I  thanked  him  for  his 
civil  and  meek  discoursing  with  me ;  and  so  we  parted.  Oh,  that  we  might  meet  in  heaven  !" 

The  Coronation,  which  took  place  soon  after  this  interview,  April  13,  1661,  afforded  a  prospect 
of  release  without  unworthy  submission.  The  customary  proclamation,  which  allowed  prisoners 
under  sentence  for  any  offence  short  of  felony  to  sue  out  a  pardon  for  twelve  months  from  that 
date,  suspended  the  execution  of  the  sentence  of  banishment  and  gave  a  hope  that  the  prison  doors 
might  be  opened  for  him.  The  local  authorities  taking  no  steps  to  enable  him  to  profit  by  the 


32  LIFE  OF  BUN  VAN. 

""royal  clemency,  his  second  wife,  Elizabeth,  travelled  up  to  London,  and  with  dauntless  courage 
made  her  way  to  the  House  of  Lords,  where  she  presented  her  petition.  She  was  treated  kindly, 
but  was  assured  that  the  matter  was  beyond  the  province  of  the  peers,  and  that  the  question 
of  her  husband's  release  was  committed  to  the  judges  at  the  next  assizes.  The  judges  of  these 
assizes  were  Twisden  and  Sir  Matthew  Hale,  and  from  the  latter  Bunyan's  case  would  be  certain 
to  meet  with  sympathetic  consideration;  but  the  law  rendered  him  powerless  to  relieve  him. 
Three  several  times  did  Bunyan's  noble-hearted  wife  present  her  husband's  petition,  and  when 
we  find  Hale,  confessedly  the  soundest  lawyer  of  the  time,  thus  summing  up  the  matter :  "  I  am 
sorry,  woman,  that  I  can  do  thee  no  good.  Thou  must  do  one  of  these  three  things,  viz.,  either 
apply  thyself  to  the  king,  or  sue  out  his  pardon,  or  get  a  writ  of  error,"  which  last,  he  told 
her.  would  be  the  cheapest  course — we  may  feel  sure  that  Bunyan's  petition  was  not  granted 
because  it  could  not  be  granted  legally.  The  blame  of  his  imprisonment  lay  with  the  law,  not 
with  its  administrators. 

At  the  next  assizes,  held  in  January,  1662,  Bunyan  made  strenuous  efforts  to  get  his  name  put 
on  the  calendar  of  felons,  that  he  might  have  a  regular  trial  before  the  king's  judges  and  be  able  to 
plead  his  cause  in  person.  This  attempt  was  thwarted  by  the  county  magistrates  and  the  Clerk  of 
the  Peace,  Mr.  Cobb,  now  become  one  of  his  chief  enemies.  "  Thus,"  writes  Bunyan,  "  was  I  hin- 
dered and  prevented  at  that  time  also  from  appearing  before  the  judge,  and  left  in  prison."  Of 
this  prison,  the  county  gaol  of  Bedford,  he  remained  an  inmate,  with  one  short  interval  in  1666, 
for  the  next  twelve  years,  till  his  release  by  order  of  the  Privy  Council,  May  17,  1672. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE  exaggeration  of  the  severity  of  Bunyan's  imprisonment  long  current,  now  that  the  facts 
are  better  known,  has  led,  by  a  very  intelligible  reaction,  to  an  undue  depreciation  of  it.  It  is 
certainly  true  that  during  a  portion  of  his  captivity  Bunyan  had  an  amount  of  liberty  which  at  the 
present  day  would  be  impossible.  But  this  indulgence  extended  over  a  very  limited  part  of  his  im- 
prisonment. Between  the  autumn  assizes  of  1661  and  the  spring  assizes  of  1662  he  was  treated 
somewhat  as  if  on  parole,  permitted  to  go  even  as  far  as  London,  to  be  occasionally  present  at 
meetings  of  his  church,  and  even  to  preach.  "  I  followed,"  Bunyan  says,  writing  of  this  period, 
"  my  wonted  course  of  preaching,  taking  all  occasions  that  were  put  into  my  hand  to  visit  the 
people  of  God."  But  when  these  indulgences  came  to  the  magistrates'  ears  they  were  brought 
sharply  to  an  end.  The  jailer  was  all  but  "  cast  out  of  his  place,"  and  Bunyan's  liberty  so  seriously 
"  straitened  "  that  he  was  prohibited  even  "  to  look  out  at  the  door." 

But  though  his  imprisonment  was  not  so  severe  as  has  sometimes  been  supposed,  his  condition  U 
was  a   dreary  and  painful  one.     The  separation  from  his  wife  and  children,  especially  from  his 
blind  child  Mary,  was  a  continually  renewed  anguish  to  his  loving  heart.      "  The  parting  with . 
them,"  he  writes,  "  hath  often  been  to  me  as  pulling  the  flesh  from  the  bones ;  and  that  not  only 
because  I  am  somewhat  too  fond  of  these  great  mercies,  but  also  because  I  should  often  have 
brought  to  my  mind  the  many  hardships,  miseries,  and  wants  my  poor  family  was  like  to  meet 
with  should  I  be  taken  from  them,  especially  my  poor  blind  child,  who  lay  nearer  to  my  heart 
than  all  beside.     Poor  child,  thought  I,  thou  must  be  beaten,  thou  must  beg,  thou  must  suffer 
hunger,  cold,  nakedness,  and  a  thousand  calamities,  though  I  cannot  now  endure  the  wind  should 


LIFE  OF  BUNYAN.  33 

blow  on  thee.  Oh,  the  thought  of  the  hardships  my  blind  one  might  go  under  would  break  my 
heart  to  pieces."  He  was  also  greatly  troubled  by  the  thought,  that  "for  aught  he  could  tell,"  his 
imprisonment  might  end  at  the  gallows :  not  so  much  that  he  dreaded  death,  as  that  he  feared  that* 
he  might  play  the  coward  at  the  last,  and  so  do  discredit  to  the  cause  of  religion.  "  I  was  ashamed 
to  die  with  a  pale  face  and  tottering  knees  for  such  a  cause  as  this."  Yet  he  was  content  to  suffer 
by  the  hangman's  hand  if  thus  he  might  have  the  opportunity  of  addressing  the  crowd  that  he 
thought  would  come  to  see  him  die.  "  And  if  it  must  be  so,  if  God  will  but  convert  one  soul 
by  my  very  last  words,  I  shall  not  count  my  life  thrown  away  or  lost."  Yet  on  the  whole 
Bunyan's  prison  life,  when  the  first  bitterness  of  it  was  past  and  habit  had  done  away  with  its 
strangeness,  was  a  quiet  and,  it  would  seem,  not  an  unhappy  one.  A  manly  self-respect  bore  him 
up,  and  forbade  his  dwelling  on  the  darker  features  of  his  position  or  thinking  or  speaking  harshly 
of  the  authors  of  his  durance.  "  He  was,"  writes  one  who  saw  him  at  this  time,  "  mild  and  affable 
in  conversation,  not  given  to  loquacity  or  to  much  discourse  unless  some  urgent  occasion  required. 
He  was  never  heard  to  reproach  or  revile,  whatever  injury  he  received,  but  rather  rebuked  those 
who  did  so.  He  managed  all  things  with  such  exactness  as  if  he  had  made  it  his  study  not  to  give 
offence." 

His  spiritual  comfort  during  this  time,  as  might  have  been  expected,  was  great.  "  I  never 
had  in  all  my  life  so  great  an  inlet  into  the  Word  of  God  as  now.  Those  Scriptures  that  I  saw 
nothing  in  before  were  made  in  this  place  and  state  to  shine  upon  me;  Jesus  Christ  also  was  never 
more  real  and  apparent  than  now;  here  I  have  seen  and  felt  him  indeed.  Oh,  that  word,  'We 
have  not  preached  unto  you  cunningly  devised  fables,'  and  that  '  God  raised  Christ  up  from  the 
dead  and  gave  him  glory,  that  our  faith  and  hope  might  be  in  God,'  were  blessed  words  unto  me 
in  this  condition,  so  that  sometimes  when  I  have  enjoyed  the  favor  of  them  I  have  been  able  to 
laugh  at  destruction  and  to  fear  neither  the  horse  nor  his  rider. 

"  I  have  had  sweet  sights  of  the  forgiveness  of  my  sins  in  this  place,  and  of  my  being  with 
Jesus  in  another  world.  Oh,  the  mount  Sion,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  the  innumerable  company 
of  angels,  and  God  the  Judge  of  all,  and  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect,  and  Jesus,  have  been 
sweet  unto  me  in  this  place.  I  have  seen  that  here  which  I  am  persuaded  I  shall  never  while  in 
this  world  be  able  to  express :  I  have  seen  a  truth  in  this  Scripture,  '  Whom  having  not  seen,  ye 
love;  in  whom,  though  now  ye  see  him  not,  yet  believing,  ye  rejoice  with  joy  unspeakable  and 
full  of  glory.'  I  never  knew  what  it  was  for  God  to  stand  by  me  at  all  times  and  at  every  offer  of 
Satan  to  afflict  me  as  I  have  found  him  since  I  came  in  hither ;  for  lo,  as  fears  have  presented 
themselves,  so  have  supports  and  encouragements;  yea,  when  I  have  started,  even  as  it  were  at 
nothing  else  but  my  shadow,  yet  God,  as  being  very  tender  of  me,  hath  not  suffered  me  to  be 
molested,  but  would  with  one  Scripture  or  another  strengthen  me  against  all,  insomuch  that  I  have 
often  said,  were  it  lawful,  I  could  pray  for  greater  t/ouble  for  the  greater  comfort's  sake." 

Bunyan  being  precluded  by  his  imprisonment  from  carrying  on  his  brazier's  craft  for  the  sup- 
port of  his  family,  he  got  himself  taught  how  to  make  "  long  tagged  laces,"  "  many  hundred 
gross  "  of  which,  we  are  told,  he  made  during  captivity  for  his  own  and  his  family's  necessities. 
He  still  had  abundant  opportunity  to  exercise  his  ministerial  functions,  the  prisoners  for  conscience' 
sake  furnishing  at  times  a  numerous  and  sympathetic  congregation.  "  On  these  occasions,"  says 
one  who  was  present,  "  I  have  heard  Mr.  Bunyan  both  preach  and  pray  with  that  mighty  spirit  of 
faith,  and  plerophory  of  divine  assistance  that  has  made  me  stand  and  wonder."  These  sermons 
addressed  to  his  fellow-prisoners  supplied,  in  many  cases,  the  first  outlines  of  the  books  which,  in 
rapid  succession,  flowed  from  his  pen  during  the  earlier  years  of  his  imprisonment.  Bunyan  him- 

5 


34  £fFE  OF  BUN  VAN. 

self  tells  us  that  this  was  the  case  with  regard  to  his  "  Holy  City,"  the  first  idea  of  which  was 
borne  in  upon  his  mind  when  addressing  "  his  brethren  in  the  prison  chamber."  Others  than  his 
fellow-prisoners  came  to  him  for  religious  counsel.  The  time  not  employed  in  these  various  du- 
ties was  given  to  study  and  composition.  For  this  his  confinement  secured  him  the  leisure  which 
otherwise  he  would  have  looked  for  in  vain.  His  library  was,  at  least  at  one  period,  a  very  limited 
one,  consisting  only  of  two  books,  the  Bible  and  Foxe's  "  Book  of  Martyrs,"  but  he  studied  them 
indefatigably.  His  mode  of  composition  was  rapid,  but  not  careless.  It  was,  as  he  tells  us,  "  first 
with  doing  and  then  with  undoing  and  then  with  doing  again,"  that  he  brought  to  completion 
books  which  for  clearness  of  thought,  lucidity  of  arrangement,  felicity  of  language,  rich  even  if 
sometimes  homely  force  of  illustration,  and  earnestness  of  piety,  have  never  been  surpassed. 

In  1666,  the  year  of  the  Fire  of  London,  after  six  years  in  Bedford  gaol,  Bunyan  enjoyed 
a  short  interval  of  liberty,  which  he  used  to  the  utmost  in  preaching.  He  was  again  arrested  at  a 
meeting,  just  as  he  was  beginning  to  preach,  and  was  returned  to  gaol,  where  he  spent  another  six 
years,  until  the  issuing  of  the  "  Declaration  of  Indulgence"  in  1672  opened  the  long-closed  doors, 
and  he  walked  out  a  free  man,  with  liberty  to  deliver  Christ's  message  as  he  himself  understood  it. 

For  some  unknown  cause,  perhaps  the  depressing  effect  of  protracted  confinement,  during 
this  second  six  years  Bunyan's  pen  was  far  less  prolific  than  during  the  former  period.  Only  two 
of  his  books  are  dated  in  those  years.  When  once  he  became  a  free  man  again  his  pen  recovered 
its  former  copiousness  of  production,  and  the  works  by  which  he  has  been  immortalized,  "  The 
Pilgrim's  Progress  " — which  has  been  erroneously  attributed  to  Bunyan's  twelve  years'  imprison- 
ment— and  its  sequel,  "The  Holy  War,"  and  the  "  Life  and  Death  of  Mr.  Badman,"  and  a  host  of 
more  strictly  theological  works,  followed  one  another  in  rapid  succession. 

Bunyan's  second  period  of  imprisonment  was  certainly  less  severe  than  that  which  preceded  it. 
We  learn  from  the  church  book  of  his  frequent  services  of  the  church,  as  if  he  were  in  the  full 
enjoyment  of  his  liberty.  Towards  the  end  of  the  second  period  his  confinement  again  became 
more  rigorous,  but  this  was  again  changed  by  the  secret  plans  of  Charles  II.  for  restoring  the  power 
of  the  Pope  in  England,  for  which  he  found  it  necessary  to  pave  the  way  by  a  general  Declaration 
of  Indulgence.  Under  this  declaration  chapels  were  reopened,  the  gaols  were  emptied,  men  were 
set  free  to  worship  God  after  their  own  fashion.  More  than  three  thousand  licenses  to  preach  were 
at  once  issued.  One  of  the  earliest  of  these,  dated  May  9,  1672,  four  months  before  his  formal 
pardon  under  the  Great  Seal,  was  granted  to  Bunyan,  who  in  the  preceding  January  had  been 
chosen  their  minister  by  the  little  congregation  at  Bedford,  and  "  giving  himself  up  to  serve  Christ 
and  his  church  in  that  charge,  had  received  of  the  elders  the  right  hand  of  fellowship."  The  place 
licensed  for  the  exercise  of  Bunyan's  ministry  was  "Josias  Roughead's  barn  standing  in  an  or- 
chard." This  primitive  place  of  worship,  in  which  Bunyan  preached  regularly  until  his  death,  was 
pulled  down  in  1707,  when  a  "three-ridged  meeting-house"  was  erected  in  its  place.  This  in 
its  turn  gave  way,  in  1849,  to  the  existing  more  seemly  chapel,  to  which  the  present  Duke  of  Bed- 
ford, in  1876,  presented  a  pair  of  noble  bronze  doors  bearing  scenes,  in  high  relief,  from  "  The  Pil- 
grim's Progress,"  the  work  of  Mr.  Frederick  Krupp.  In  the  vestry  are  preserved  Bunyan's  chair 
and  other  relics  of  the  man  who  has  made  the  name  of  Bedford  famous  to  the  whole  civilized 
world. 


LIFE  OF  BUN  VAN. 


35 


CHAPTER  VII. 

BUNYAN  was  now  half  way  through  his  forty-fourth  year.  Sixteen  years  still  remained  to  him 
before  his  career  of  indefatigable  service  in  the  Master's  work  was  brought  to  a  close.  Of  these 
sixteen  years  we  have  only  a  very  general  knowledge.  Details  are  wanting,  nor  is  there  any 
known  source  from  which  they  can  be  recovered.  If  he  kept  any  diary  it  has  not  been  preserved. 
If  he  wrote  letters — and  one  who  was  looked  up  to  by  so  large  a  circle  of  disciples  as  a  spiritual 
father  and  guide,  and  whose  pen  was  so  ready  of  exercise,  cannot  fail  to  have  written  many — 
not  one  has  come  down  to  us.  But  the  little  that  is  recorded  of  him  is  eminently  characteristic. 
We  see  him  constantly  engaged  in  the  great  work  to  which  he  felt  God  had  called  him,  and 
for  which  "with  much  content  through  grace"  he  had  suffered  twelve  years'  incarceration.  In  ad- 
dition to  the  regular  discharge  of  his  pastoral  duties  to  his  own  congregation,  he  took  a  general 
oversight  of  the  villages  far  and  near  which  had  been  the  scene  of  his  earlier  ministry,  preaching 
whenever  opportunity  offered,  and  ever  unsparing  of  his  own  personal  labor,  making  long 
journeys  into  distant  parts  of  the  country  for  the  furtherance  of  the  gospel. 

Almost  the  first  thing  Bunyan  did,  after  his  liberation  from  gaol,  was  to  apply  to  Government  /- 
for  licenses  for  preachers  and  preaching -places  in  Bedfordshire  and  neighboring  counties  under  the 
Declaration  of  Indulgence.     Twenty-five  preachers  and  thirty-one  buildings  are  known  to  have 
been  licensed  through  his  efforts.      Over  these  religious  communities  Bunyan  exercised  a  quasi- 
episcopal  superintendence  which  gained  for  him  the  playful  title  of  "  Bishop  Bunyan." 

With  his  time  so  largely  occupied  in  his  spiritual  functions  he  could  have  had  but  small  leisure  / 

to  devote  to  his  worldly  calling. 
This,  however,  one  of  so  honest 
and  independent  a  spirit  is  sure 
not  to  have  neglected.  He  had  a 
family  to  maintain,  and  his  con- 
gregation  were  mostly  of  the  poor 
sort,  unable  to  contribute  much  to 
their  pastor's  support.  It  is  be- 
yond all  doubt  that  though  his 
ministerial  duties  were  his  chief 
concern,  he  prudently  kept  fast 
hold  of  his  handicraft  as  a  certain 
means  of  support  for  himself  and, 
those  dependent  on  him.  On  the 
whole,  Bunyan's  outward  circum- 
stances were  probably  easy.  His 
wants  were  few  and  easily  sup- 
plied. Having  food  and  raiment 
for  himself,  his  wife,  and  his  chil- 
dren, he  was  "  therewith  content."  His  home  was  a  small  cottage  such  as  laborers  now  occupy, 
with  three  small  rooms  on  the  ground  floor,  and  a  garret  with  a  diminutive  dormer  window  under 
the  high-pitched  tile  roof.  Behind  stood  an  out-building  which  served  as  his  workshop.  One 
who  visited  him  found  the  contents  of  his  study  hardly  larger  than  those  of  his  prison  cell.  They 


BUNYAN'S  COTTAGE. 


LIFE  OF  BUNYAN. 


were  limited  to  a  Bible  and  copies  of  "  The  Pilgrim's  Progress  "  and  a  few  other  books,  chiefly 
his  own  works,  "  all  lying  on  a  shelf  or  shelves." 

Bunyan's  celebrity  as  a  preacher  continued  to  increase.  Wherever  he  ministered — sometimes, 
when  troublous  days  returned,  in  woods  and  dells  and  other  hiding-places — the  announcement 
that  John  Bunyan  was  to  preach  gathered  a  large  and  attentive  auditory,  hanging  on  his  lips  and 
drinking  from  them  the  words  of  life.  His  earliest  biographer,  Charles  Doe,  the  honest  comb- 
maker  at  the  foot  of  London  Bridge,  tells  us,  "  I  have  seen,  by  my  computation,  about  twelve 
hundred  at  a  morning  lecture  by  seven  o'clock  on  a  working-day,  in  the  dark  winter-time."  This 
was  in  London.  "  I  also  computed,"  he  goes  on,  "  about  three  thousand  that  came  to  hear  him 
one  Lord's  day  in  London,  so  that  half  were  fain  to  go  back  again  for  want  of  room,  and  then  him- 
self was  fain  at  a  back  door  to  be  pulled  almost  over  people  to  get  up  stairs  to  his  pulpit."  On 
one  of  his  occasional  visits  to  London  he  delivered  his  striking  sermon  on  "  The  Greatness  of  the 
Soul  and  the  Unspeakableness  of  the  Loss  thereof,"  first  published  in  1683.  He  often  preached 
in  Dr.  Owen's  meeting-house,  in  White's  Alley,  or  Moorfields,  which  was  the  gathering-place 
for  titled  folk,  city  merchants,  and  other  Nonconformists  of  position  and  degree. 

Bunyan  was  more  than  once  urged  to  leave  Bedford  and  settle  in  the  metropolis.  But  to  all 
these  solicitations  he  turned  a  deaf  ear.  No  prospect  of  a  wider  field  of  usefulness,  still  less  of  a 
larger  income,  could  tempt  him  to  desert  his  "  few  sheep  in  the  wilderness,"  his  Bedford  flock. 
Some  of  them,  it  is  true,  were  wayward  sheep.  Brother  John  Stanton  had  to  be  admonished  "for 
abusing  his  wife  and  beating  her  often  for  very  light  matters,"  and  Sister  Mary  Foskett  for  "  pri- 
vately whispering  of  a  horrid  scandal,  without  culler  of  truth,  against  Brother  Honeylove."  But 
though  Bunyan's  flock  contained  some  whose  fleeces  were  not  as  white  as  he  desired,  the  congre- 
gation must  have  been  on  the  whole  a  quiet,  God-fearing,  spiritually-minded  folk  of  whom  their 
pastor  could  think  with  thankfulness  and  satisfaction  as  "his  hope  and  joy  and  crown  of  rejoicing." 
At  Bedford,  therefore,  he  remained. 

Bunyan's  peace  was  not,  however,  altogether  undisturbed.  The  Declaration  of  Indulgence, 
under  which  Bunyan  was  liberated  in  1672,  was  very  short-lived.  Granted  on  the  fifteenth  of 
Match  of  that  year,  it  was  with- 
drawn in  March  of  the  following 
year,  and  Bunyan  and  his  fellow- 
Nonconformists  were  in  a  posi- 
tion of  greater  peril,  as  far  as  the 
letter  of  the  law  was  concerned, 
than  ever  before.  Unhappily  for 
Bunyan,  the  parties  in  whose 
hands  the  execution  of  the  penal 
statutes  against  Nonconformists 
rested  in  Bedfordshire  were  not 
likely  to  let  them  lie  inactive.  A 
warrant  was  issued  for  his  appre- 
hension without  delay.  It  is  dated 
the  4th  of  March,  and  bears  the 
signature  of  no  fewer  than  thir- 
teen magistrates,  ten  of  them  affixing  their  seals — a  significant  indication  of  the  importance  at- 
tached to  Bunyan's  imprisonment  by  the  gentry  of  the  country. 


BEDFORD  GAOL. 


LIFE  OF  BUNYAN.  37 

Once  more,  then,  Bunyan  became  a  prisoner,  and  that,  there  can  be  little  doubt,  in  his  old 
quarters  in  the  Bedford  gaol.  This  last  imprisonment  lasted  only  half  as  many  months  as  his 
former  imprisonment  had  lasted  years.  At  the  end  of  six  months  he  was  again  a  free  man,  thanks 
to  the  good  offices  of  Owen,  Cromwell's  celebrated  chaplain,  with  Barlow,  Bishop  of  Lincoln. 
This  short  imprisonment  assumes  great  importance  from  the  probability,  now  become  almost  a 
certainty,  that  it  was  during  this  period  that  Bunyan  began,  if  he  did  not  also  complete,  the  first 
part  of  "  The  Pilgrim's  Progress."  The  break  which  occurs  in  the  narrative  after  the  visit  of  the 
Pilgrims  to  the  Delectable  Mountains,  which  so  unnecessarily  interrupts  the  course  of  the  story— r 
"  So  I  awoke  from  my  dream ;  and  I  slept  and  dreamed  again " — seems  to  indicate  the  point 
Bunyan  had  reached  when  his  six  months'  imprisonment  ended,  and  from  which  he  continued 
the  book  after  his  release. 

The  First  Part  of  "The  Pilgrim's  Progress"  was  issued  from  the  press  in  1678.  A  second 
edition  followed  in  the  same  year,  and  a  third,  with  large  and  important  additions,  in  1679.  The 
Second  Part,  after  an  interval  of  seven  years,  followed  early  in  1685.  Between  the  two  parts 
appeared  two  of  his  most  celebrated  works — the  "  Life  and  Death  of  Mr.  Badman,"  published 
in  1680,  originally  intended  to  supply  a  contrast  and  a  foil  to  "  The  Pilgrim's  Progress"  by 
depicting  a  life  which  was  scandalously  bad;  and,  in  1682,  that  which  Macaulay  has  said  "  would 
have  been  our  greatest  allegory  if  the  earlier  allegory  had  not  been  written,"  "  The  Holy  War  made 
by  Shaddai  upon  Diabolus." 

There  is  little  more  to  record  in  Bunyan's  life.  Though  never  again  seriously  troubled  for  his 
nonconformity,  his  preaching  journeys  were  not  always  without  risk.  There  is  a  tradition  that 
when  he  visited  Reading  to  preach  he  disguised  himself  as  a  wagoner,  carrying  a  long  whip 
in  his  hand  to  escape  detection.  The  name  of  "  Bunyan's  Dell "  in  a  wood  not  very  far  from 
Hitchin,  tells  of  the  time  when  he  and  his  hearers  had  to  conceal  their  meetings  from  their  enemies' 
quest,  with  scouts  planted  on  every  side  to  warn  them  of  the  approach  of  the  spies  and  informers 
who  for  reward  were  actively  plying  their  odious  trade.  Towards  the  close  of  the  year  1685 
the  persecution  of  the  Nonconformists  raged  with  extreme  fierceness.  Never,  not  even  under 
the  tyranny  of  Laud,  had  the  condition  of  the  Puritans  been  so  deplorable.  Dissenting  ministers, 
however  blameless  in  life,  however  eminent  in  learning,  could  not  venture  to  walk  the  streets  for 
fear  of  outrages  which  not  only  were  not  repressed,  but  were  encouraged,  by  those  whose  duty  it 
was  to  preserve  the  peace.  Richard  Baxter  was  in  prison.  Howe  was  afraid  to  show  himself  in 
London  and  had  been  driven  to  Utrecht.  Not  a  few  who  had  up  to  that  time  borne  up  boldly, 
lost  heart  and  fled  the  kingdom.  Through  many  subsequent  years  the  autumn  of  1685  was  re- 
membered as  a  time  of  misery  and  terror.  There  is,  however,  no  indication  of  Bunyan  having 
been  molested.  The  "  deed  of  gift "  by  which  at  this  time  he  sought  to  avoid  the  confiscation 
of  his  goods,  conveying  his  "  goods,  chattels,  debts,  ready  money,  plate,  rings,  household  stuff, 
apparel,  utensils,  brass,  pewter,  bedding,  and  all  other  his  substance  whatsoever,  to  his  well- 
beloved  wife  Elizabeth  Bunyan,"  was  never  called  into  exercise.  Indeed  its  very  existence  was 
forgotten.  Hidden  away  in  a  recess  in  his  house  in  St.  Cuthbert's,  this  interesting  document  was 
accidentally  discovered  at  the  beginning  of  the  present  century,  and  is  preserved  among  the 
most  valued  treasures  of  the  congregation  which  bears  his  name. 

Quieter  times  for  Nonconformists  were  however  at  hand.  James  II.,  despairing  of  employing 
the  Tories  and  the  Churchmen  as  his  tools,  turned,  as  his  brother  had  turned  before  him,  to  the 
Dissenters,  the  snare  being  craftily  baited  as  before  with  a  new  Declaration  of  Indulgence.  But 
with  all  his  ardent  desire  for  religious  liberty,  Bunyan  was  too  keen-witted  not  to  see  through 


38  LIFE  OF  BUNYAN. 

James'  policy,  and  too  honest  to  give  it  any  direct  support.  He  clearly  saw  that  it  was  not 
for  any  love  of  the  Dissenters  that  they  were  so  suddenly  delivered  from  their  persecutions  and 
placed  on  a  kind  of  equality  with  the  Church.  The  king's  object  was  the  establishment  of  Popery. * 
Zealous  as  Bunyan  was  for  the  liberty  of  prophesying,  even  that  might  be  purchased  at  too  high  a 
price.  An  attempt  was  made  to  buy  his  support  by  the  offer  of  some  place  under  Government. 
The  bribe  was  indignantly  rejected.  Bunyan  even  refused  to  see  the  Government  agent  who 
offered  it ;  "  he  would  by  no  means  come  to  him,  but  sent  his  excuse."  Behind  the  treacherous 
sunshine  he  saw  a  dark  cloud,  ready  to  burst.  The  Ninevites'  remedy  he  felt  was  now  calico!  for.  '. 
So  he  gathered  his  congregation  together  and  appointed  a  day  of  fasting  and  prayer  to  avert 
the  danger  that,  under  a  specious  pretext,  again  menaced  their  civil  and  religious  liberties.  A 
true,  sturdy  Englishman,  Bunyan,  with  Baxter  and  Howe,  "  refused  an  indulgence  which  could 
only  be  purchased  by  the  violent  overthrow  of  the  law." 

Bunyan  did  not  live  to  see  the  Revolution  of  1688.  In  August  of  that  year  the  pilgrim's 
earthly  progress  ended,  and  he  was  bidden  to  cross  the  dark  river  which  has  no  bridge.  The 
summons  came  to  him  in  the  very  midst  of  his  religious  activity,  both  as  a  preacher  and  as  a 
writer.  His  pen  had  never  been  more  busy  than  when  he  was  bidden  to  lay  it  down  finally. 
Early  in  1688,  after  a  two  years'  silence,  attributable  perhaps  to  the  political  troubles  of  the  time, 
his  "Jerusalem  Sinner  Saved,  or  a  Help  to  Despairing  Souls,"  one  of  the  best  known  and  most 
powerfully  characteristic  of  his  works,  had  issued  from  the  press,  and  had  been  followed  by  four 
others,  "The  Work  of  Jesus  Christ  as  an  Advocate,"  a  poetical  composition  entitled  "  The  Build- 
ing, Nature,  and  Excellency  of  the  House  of  God,"  the  "  Water  of  Life,"  and  "  Solomon's  Temple 
Spiritualized."  At  the  time  of  his  death  he  was  occupied  in  seeing  through  the  press  a  sixth  book, 
"  The  Acceptable  Sacrifice,"  which  was  published  after  his  funeral.  In  addition  to  these  Bunyan 
left  behind  him  no  fewer  than  fourteen  works  in  manuscript,  all  of  which  were  subsequently 
published. 

Bunyan's  end  was  in  keeping  with  his  life.  He  had  ever  sought  to  be  a  peacemaker  and 
to  reconcile  differences,  and  thus  had  "  hindered  many  mishaps  and  saved  many  families  from 
ruin."  His  last  effort  of  the  kind  indirectly  caused  his  death.  The  father  of  a  young  man  in 
whom  he  took  an  interest  had  resolved,  on  some  offence,  real  or  supposed,  to  disinherit  his  son. 
The  young  man  sought  Bunyan's  mediation.  Anxious  to  heal  the  breach,  Bunyan  mounted 
his  horse  and  took  the  long  journey  to  Reading,  where  he  pleaded  the  offender's  cause  so 
effectually  as  to  obtain  a  promise  of  forgiveness.  Bunyan  returned  homeward  through  London, 
where  he  was  appointed  to  preach.  His  forty  miles'  ride  to  London  was  through  heavy,  driving 
rain.  He  was  weary  and  drenched  to  the  skin  when  he  reached  the  house  of  his  "very  loving 
friend "  John  Strudwick,  deacon  of  the  Nonconformist  meeting  in  Red  Cross  Street.  A  few 
months  before  Bunyan  had  suffered  from  the  sweating  sickness.  The  exposure  caused  a  return  of 
the  malady,  and  though  well  enough  to  fulfil  his  pulpit  engagement  on  Sunday  the  igth  of  August, 
on  the  following  Tuesday  dangerous  symptoms  declared  themselves,  and  in  ten  days  the  disease 
proved  fatal.  He  died  within  two  months  of  completing  his  sixtieth  year,  on  the  3ist  of  August, 
1688,  just  a  month  before  the  publication  of  the  Declaration  of  the  Prince  of  Orange  opened  a  new 
era  of  civil  and  religious  liberty.  He  was  buried  in  Mr.  Strudwick's  newly  purchased  vault  in  the 
burial-ground  in  Finsbury,  a  place  which  has  been  called  the  Campo  Santo  of  Dissenters,  where 
Watts  and  Owen  and  the  Wesleys  and  many  others  famous  in  the  annals  of  Nonconformity  await 
the  resurrection  day.  No  account  of  Bunyan's  funeral  has  been  preserved,  although  doubtless,  in 
accordance  with  the  custom  of  the  time,  it  was  an  imposing  one.  The  literary  renown  of  the  great 


LIFE  OF  BUN  VAN. 


BUNYAN'S  TOMB. 


39 

Dreamer,  and  his  great  reputation 
in  London  as  a  preacher,  would 
assuredly  gather  great  numbers  to 
the  mournful  scene.  But  the  only 
record  we  have  of  any  demonstra- 
tion on  the  occasion  of  his  death 
is  that  of  a  sorrowful  meeting  of 
his  own  Bedford  flock  on  the 
Wednesday  following  the  news  of 
his  death,  and  of  the  appointment 
that  the  next  Wednesday  also 
should  be  kept  "  in  prayer  and 
humiliation  on  the  same  account." 
The  "  new  sepulchre  "  in  which  he 
was  laid  was  doubtless  bought  by 
John  Strudwick  for  his  honored 
friend.  There,  ten  years  later,  his 
own  remains  were  laid.  A  tomb 
was  erected  over  the  grave,  and 
was  later  replaced  by  one  bearing 
Bunyan's  effigy. 

By  his  first  wife,  whose  Chris- 
tian name  is  nowhere  recorded, 
Bunyan  had  four  children  —  two 


sons   and   two   daughters;    and   by   his  second   wife,  the   heroic   Elizabeth,   one   son    and    one  • 
daughter.     All  of  them  survived  except  his  eldest  daughter  Mary,  his  tenderly-loved  blind  child, 
who  died  before  him.     His  wife  only  survived  him  for  a  brief  period,  "  following  her  faithful  pil- 
grim from  this  world  to  the  other  whither  he  was  gone  before  her"  either  in  1691  or  1692. 

Bunyan's  character  and  person  are  thus  described  by  his  earliest  biographer,  Charles  Doe : 
"  He  appeared  in  countenance  to  be  of  a  stern  and  rough  temper.  But  in  his  conversation  he  was 
mild  and  affable,  not  given  to  loquacity  or  much  discourse  in  company,  unless  some  urgent 
occasion  required  it.  Observing  never  to  boast  of  himself  or  his  parts,  but  rather  to  seem  low 
in  his  own  eyes  and  submit  himself  to  the  judgment  of  others.  Abhorring  lying  and  swearing, 
being  just,  in  all  that  lay  in  his  power,  to  his  word.  Not  seeming  to  revenge  injuries;  loving 
to  reconcile  differences  and  make  friendship  with  all.  He  had  a  sharp,  quick  eye,  with  an  excellent 
discerning  of  persons,  being  of  good  judgment  and  quick  wit.  He  was  tall  of  stature,  strong- 
boned,  though  not  corpulent ;  somewhat  of  a  ruddy  face,  with  sparkling  eyes,  wearing  his  hair  on 
his  upper  lip  after  the  old  British  fashion.  His  hair  reddish,  but  in  his  later  days  time  had 
sprinkled  it  with  gray.  His  nose  well  set,  but  not  declining  or  bending.  His  mouth  moderately 
large,  his  forehead  something  high,  and  his  habit  always  plain  and  modest.  Not  puffed  up  in 
prosperity,  nor  shaken  in  adversity,  always  holding  the  golden  mean." 

We  may  add  the  portrait  drawn  by  one  who  had  been  his  companion  and  fellow-sufferer  for 
many  years,  John  Nelson :  "  His  countenance  was  grave  and  sedate,  and  did  so  to  the  life  discover 
the  inward  frame  of  his  heart  that  it  was  convincing  to  the  beholders,  and  did  strike  something  of 
awe  into  them  that  had  nothing  of  the  fear  of  God." 


40  LIFE  OF  BUN  VAN. 

An  anecdote  is  told  that  one  day  when  he  had  preached  "  with  peculiar  warmth  and  enlarge- 
ment "  one  of  his  hearers  remarked  "  what  a  sweet  sermon  "  he  had  delivered.  "  Ay,"  was 
Bunyan's  reply,  "  you  have  no  need  to  tell  me  that,  for  the  devil  whispered  it  to  me  before  I  was 
well  out  of  the  pulpit."  As  an  evidence  of  the  estimation  in  which  Bunyan  was  held  by  the  highly- 
educated,  it  is  recorded  that  Charles  II.  expressed  his  surprise  to  Dr.  Owen  that  "  a  learned  man 
such  as  he  could  sit  and  listen  to  an  illiterate  tinker."  "  May  it  please  your  majesty,"  Owen 
replied,  "  I  would  gladly  give  up  all  my  learning  if  I  could  preach  like  that  tinker." 

Although  much  of  Bunyan's  literary  activity  was  devoted  to  controversy,  he  had  none  of  the 
narrowness  or  bitter  spirit  of  a  controversialist.  It  is  true  that  his  zeal  for  what  he  deemed  to  be 
truth  led  him  into  vehemence  of  language  in  dealing  with  those  whom  he  regarded  as  its  perverters. 
But  the  intensity  of  speech  was  coupled  with  the  utmost  charity  of  spirit  towards  those  who  differed 
from  him.  External  differences  he  regarded  as  insignificant  when  he  found  real  Christian  faith 
and  love.  The  only  persons  he  scrupled  to  hold  communion  with  were  those  whose  lives  were 
openly  immoral.  "  Divisions  about  non-essentials,"  he  said,  "  were  to  churches  what  wars  were  to 
countries.  Those  who  talked  most  about  religion  cared  least  for  it ;  and  controversies  about 
doubtful  things  and  things  of  little  moment  ate  up  all  zeal  for  things  which  were  practical  and 
indisputable."  His  last  sermon  breathed  the  same  catholic  spirit,  free  from  the  trammels  of  narrow 
sectarianism.  Its  closing  words  are  such  as  deserve  to  be  written  in  letters  of  gold  as  the  sum  of 
all  true  Christian  teaching :  "  Be  ye  holy  in  all  manner  of  conversation.  Consider  that  the  holy 
God  is  your  Father,  and  let  this  oblige  you  to  live  like  the  children  of  God,  that  you  may  look 
your  Father  in  the  face  with  comfort  another  day."  By  the  catholic  spirit  which  breathes  through 
his  writings,  especially  through  "  The  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  the  tinker  of  Elstow  "  has  become 
the  teacher,  not  of  any  particular  sect,  but  of  the  universal  Church." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

BUNYAN,  as  we  have  seen,  was  a  very  copious  author.     His  collected  works  fill  three  bulky 

quarto  volumes,  each  of  nearly  eight  hundred  double-columned  pages  in  small  type.     And  this 

copiousness  of  production  is  combined  with  a  general  excellence  in  the  matter  produced.     While 

.  few  of  his  books  approach  the  high  standard  of  "  The  Pilgrim's  Progress  "  or  "  Holy  War,"  none, 

it  may  truly  be  said,  sink  very  far  below  that  standard. 

The  great  charm  which  pervades  all  Bunyan's  writings  is  their  naturalness.  You  never  feel 
that  he  is  writing  for  effect,  still  less  to  perform  an  uncongenial  piece  of  task-work.  He  wrote  as 
/he  spoke,  because  a  necessity  was  laid  upon  him  which  he  could  not  evade.  His  errand  was 
/  much  too  serious,  and  the  need  and  danger  of  others  too  urgent,  to  waste  time  in  tricking  out  his 
words  with  human  skill.  And  it  is  just  this  which,  with  all  their  rudeness,  their  occasional  bad 
grammar,  and  homely  colloquialisms,  gives  to  Bunyan's  writings  a  power  of  rivetting  the  attention 
and  stirring  the  affections  which  few  writers  have  attained  to.  The  pent-up  fire  glows  in  every 
line  and  kindles  the  hearts  of  his  readers.  "  Beautiful  images,  vivid  expressions,  forcible  arguments 
all  aglow  with  passion,  tender  pleadings,  solemn  warnings,  make  those  who  read  him  all  eye, 
11  ear,  all  soul." 

Bunyan's  verse  compositions,  which  are  numerous,  do  not  entitle  him  to  high  rank  as  a  poet, 
although  they  are  far  removed  from  doggerel.  "  His  ear  for  rhythm,"  says  Mr.  Froude,  "  though 
less  true  than  in  his  prose,  is  seldom  wholly  at  fault ;  and  whether  in  prose  or  verse,  he  had  the 


al 
al 


LIFE  OF  BUNYAN.  41 

superlative  merit  that  he  could  never  write  nonsense."  His  earliest  prison  work,  entitled 
"  Profitable  Meditations,"  was  in  verse,  but  neither  this  nor  his  later  metrical  ventures  before 
hisT  release — his  "  Four  Last  Things,"  his  "  Ebal  and  Gerizim,"  and  his  "  Prison  Meditations  " — 
show  as  much  power  as  his  later  efforts  in  verse.  The  "  Prison  Meditations "  are  the  most 
interesting  of  his  earlier  poems,  from  the  picture  they  present  of  Bunyan's  prison  life  and  of  the 
courageous  faith  that  sustained  him.  His  captivity  was  sweetened  by  the  thought  of  what  it  was 

that  brought  him  there  : 

"  I  here  am  very  much  refreshed 

To  think,  when  I  was  out, 
I  preached  life  and  peace  and  rest 
To  sinners  round  about. 

"  My  business  then  was  souls  to  save 

By  preaching  grace  and  faith, 

Of  which  the  comfort  now  I  hav? 

And  have  it  shall  till  death." 

He  is  very  content  to  suffer  or  even  to  die  for  his  profession. 

"  The  prison  very  sweet  to  me 

Hath  been  since  I  came  here, 
And  so  would  also  hanging  be 
If  God  would  there  appear. 

"  To  them  that  here  for  evil  lie 

This  place  is  comfortless ; 
But  not  to  me,  because  that  I 
Lie  here  for  righteousness." 

As  Bunyan  advanced  in  his  literary  career  his  claim  to  the  title  of  poet,  though  never  of  the 
highest,  was  strengthened.  The  verses  which  diversify  the  narrative  in  the  Second  Part  of  "  The 
Pilgrim's  Progress"  are  decidedly  superior  to  those  in  the  First  Part,  and  some  are  of  high 
excellence.  Who  is  ignorant  of  the  charming  little  song  of  the  Shepherd  Boy  in  the  Valley  of 
Humiliation,  or  of  the  still  higher  flight  in  Valiant-for-Truth's  song, 

"  Who  would  true  valor  see, 
Let  him  come  hither  "  ? 

All  readers  of  "The  Pilgrim's  Progress"  and  "The  Holy  War"  are  familiar  with  the  long  metrical 
compositions,  giving  the  history  of  those  works,  by  which  they  are  prefaced  and  the  latter  work  is 
closed.  No  more  characteristic  examples  of  Bunyan's  muse  can  be  found.  They  show  his 
\  excellent  command  of  his  native  tongue  in  racy  vernacular,  homely  but  never  vulgar,  and  his  power 
of  expressing  his  meaning  "  with  sharp  defined  outlines  and  without  the  waste  of  a  word." 

A  perusal  of  the  little  volume  published  three  years  after  his  death  under  the  title  of"  Country 
Rhymes  for  Children,"  later  known  as  "  Divine  Emblems,"  with  all  its  roughness  and  quaintness, 
sometimes  grating  on  the  ear,  but  full  of  strong  thought  and  picturesque  images,  cannot  fail  to  raise 
Bunyan's  pretensions  as  a  poet.  His  muse,  it  is  true,  as  Alexander  Smith  has  said,  is  a  homely 
one.  She  is  "  clad  in  russet,  wears  shoes  and  stockings,  has  a  country  accent,  and  walks  along  the 
level  Bedfordshire  roads."  But  if  the  lines  are  unpolished,  "  they  have  pith  and  sinew,  like  the  talk 
of  a  shrewd  peasant,"  with  the  "strong  thought  and  the  knack  of  the  skilled  workman  who  can 
drive  by  a  single  blow  the  nail  home  to  its  head." 
6 


42  LIFE  OF  BUNYAN. 

By  far  the  most  important  of  the  works  written  during  Bunyan's  long  imprisonment  is  the 
"  Grace  Abounding,"  in  which  with  inimitable  earnestness  and  simplicity  he  gives  the  story  of  his 
early  life  and  his  religious  history.  This  book,  if  he  had  written  no  other,  would  stamp  Bunyan  as 
one  of  the  greatest  masters  of  the  English  language  of  his  own  or  any  other  age.  In  graphic 
delineation  of  the  struggles  of  a  conscience  convicted  of  sin  towards  a  hardly  won  freedom  and 
peace,  the  alternations  of  light  and  darkness,  of  hope  and  despair,  which  checkered  its  course,  its 
morbid,  self-torturing  questions  of  motive  and  action,  this  work  of  the  travelling  tinker  as  a 
spiritual  history  has  never  been  surpassed.  Its  equal  can  hardly  be  found  save  in  the  "  Con- 
fessions of  St.  Augustine,"  which  however,  though  describing  a  like  spiritual  conflict,  are  couched 
in  a  more  cultured  style  and  rise  to  a  higher  metaphysical  region  than  Bunyan  was  capable  of 
attaining  to.  His  level  is  a  lower  one,  but  on  that  level  he  is  without  a  rival.  Never  has  the 
history  of  a  soul  been  portrayed  in  more  nervous  and  awe-inspiring  language.  And  its  awfulness 
is  enhanced  by  its  self-evident  truth. 

It  is  impossible  to   overestimate   the   value   of  "  Grace  Abounding,"  both  for  the  facts  of 

Bunyan's  earlier  life  and  for  the  spiritual  experience  of  which  those  facts  were,  in  his  eyes,  only 

/      the  outward  framework.      Its  importance  for  our  knowledge  of  Bunyan  as  a  man  as  distinguished 

I      from  an  author,  and  of  the  circumstances  of  his  life,  is  seen  by  a  comparison  of  our  acquaintance 

\   with  his  earlier  and  with  his  later  years.     When  he  laid  down  the  pen  no  one  took  it  up,  and 

beyond  two  or  three  facts  and  a  few  hazy  anecdotes,  we  know  little  or  nothing  of  all  that  happened 

between  his  final  release  and  his  death. 

The  value  of  the  "  Grace  Abounding"  however,  as  a  work  of  experimental  religion,  may  be 
easily  overestimated.  Bunyan's  unhappy  mode  of  dealing  with  the  Bible  as  a  collection  of  texts, 
each  containing  a  definite  meaning  entirely  irrespective  of  its  context,  is  utterly  destructive  of 
the  true  purpose  of  the  Holy  Scripture  as  a  revelation  of  God's  loving  and  holy  mind  and  will. 
And  it  is  not  many  who  can  study  Bunyan's  minute  history  of  the  various  stages  of  his  spiritual  life 
with  real  profit.  Only  those  who  have  known  by  experience  the  force  of  Bunyan's  spiritual  combat 
can  fully  appreciate  and  profit  by  Bunyan's  narrative.  For  such  the  "  Grace  Abounding  to  the 
Chief  of  Sinners  "  will  ever  prove  most  valuable. 

As  has  been  said,  Bunyan's  pen  was  almost  idle  during  the  last  six  years  of  his  imprisonment. 
Only  two  of  his  works  were  produced  during  this  period,  his  "  Confession  of  Faith  "  and  his 
"Defence  of  the  Doctrine  of  Justification  by  Faith."  The  object  of  the  former  work  was  "to 
vindicate  his  teachings  and  if  possible  to  secure  his  liberty."  His  professed  principles,  he  asserts, 
are  "  faith,  and  holiness  springing  therefrom,  with  an  endeavor  so  far  as  in  him  lies  to  be  at  peace 
with  all  men."  He  will  not  quarrel  about  "  things  that  are  circumstantial." 

The  "  Defence  of  the  Doctrine  of  Justification  by  Faith "  is  entirely  controversial,  being 
inspired  by  a  book  entitled,  "  The  Design  of  Christianity,"  by  Fowler,  afterwards  Bishop  of 
Gloucester.  Fowler's  doctrines  as  Bunyan  understood  them — or  rather  misunderstood  them — 
awoke  the  worst  side  of  his  impetuous  nature.  His  vituperation  of  the  author  and  his  book  is 
coarse  and  unmeasured.  No  excuse  can  be  offered  for  it,  but  it  was  much  in  the  fashion  of 
the  time.  In  this  work  Bunyan  errs  in  unduly  asserting  the  absolute,  irredeemable  corruption  of 
human  nature,  leaving  nothing  for  grace  to  work  upon,  but  demanding  an  absolutely  fresh  creation, 
not  a  revivification  of  the  divine  nature  grievously  marred  but  not  annihilated  by  Adam's  sin. 


LIFE  OF  BUN  VAN.  43 

CHAPTER   IX. 

^^characteristics  that  distinguish  Bunyan  as  a  writer  are  most  conspicuous  in-the  works-fey 
which  he  is  chiefly  known,  "  The  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  the  "  Holy  War,"  "  Grace  Abounding,"  and 
we-may  add,  though  from  the  repulsiveness  of  the  subject  the  book  is  little  read,  "The  Life  and 
Death  of  Mr.  Badman." 

One  great  charm  of  these  works,  especially  of  "  The  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  lies  in  the  pure  Saxon 
Engjish  m^wtochrrfiey^fe-wntterr,  which  makes  them  models  of  English  speech"  "In  no  book," 


writes  Mr.  J.  R.  Green,  "  do  we  see  more  clearly  than  in  '  The  Pilgrim's  Progress  '  the  imaginative 
force  JwMchJiad  heen  given,  to  .the  common  life  of  Englishmen  by  their  study  of  the  Bible.  Bun- 
yan's  English  is  the  simplest  and  homeliest  English  that  has  ever  been  used  by  any  great  writer, 
but  it  is  the  English  of  the  Bible.  His  images  are  the  images  of  prophet  and  evangelist.  So 
completely  had  the  Bible  become  Bunyan's  life  that  we  feel  its  phrases  as  the  natural  expression  of 
his  thoughts.  He  had  lived  in  the  Bible  till  its  words  became  his  own." 

The  chief  characteristic  of  Bunyan's  writings  is  the  .richness  of  his  imaginative  power.      A 
lifelike  power  of  characterization  belongs  in  the  highest  degree  to  "  The  Pilgrim's  Progress  "  and  is 
hardly  inferior  in  the  "  Holy  War."     The  secret  of  this  graphic  power  is  that  Bunyan  describes 
men  and  women  such  as  he  had  seen  and  known  them.     He  had  to  do  with  every  one  of  ^heni.^ 
He  could  have  given  a  personal  name  to  most  of  them,  and  we  could  do  the  same  to  many.     The 
same  reality  characterizes  the  descriptive  part  of  "  The  Pilgrim's  Progress."     The  scenery  and  \ 
surroundings  of  his  allegory  are  part  of  his  own  everyday  life.     He  had  known  what  it  was  to 
be  in  danger  of  falling  into  a  pit  and  being  dashed  to  pieces  with  Vain  Confidence,  of  being    / 
V   drowned  in  the  flooded  meadows  with  Christian  and  Hopeful.     Vanity  Fair  is  evidently  drawn/ 
\from  the  life:    the   great  yearly  fair  of  Stourbridge,   close   to   Cambridge,   furnished  him  with 
materials  for  the  picture. 

"  The  Pilgrim's  Progress  "  exhibits  Bunyan  in  the  character  by  which  he  would  most  have    ^ 
desired  to  be  remembered,  as  one  of  the  most  influential  of  Christian  preachers.     Hallam,  however, 
claims  for  him  another  distinction  which  would  have  greatly  startled  and  probably  shocked  him,  as 
the  father  of  our  English  novelists.     As  an  allegorist  Bunyan  had  many  predecessors,  but  he  was 
the  first  to  break  ground  in  the  field  of  fictitious  biography.    Whatever  its  deficiencies,  literary  and 
religious  may  be,  the  fact  of  its  universal  popularity  with  readers  of  all  classes  and  all  orders     / 
of  intellect  remains,  and  gives  this  book  a  unique  distinction. 

One  secret  of  the  universal  acceptableness  of  "  The  Pilgrim's  Progress  "  lies  in  the  breadth  of  r 
its  religious  sympathies.  To  quote  from  Mr.  Froude  :  "  The  Pilgrim,  though  in  Puritan  dress,  is  a 
genuine  man.  His  experience  is  so  truly  human  experience,  that  Christians  of  every  persuasion  can 
identify  themselves  with  him.  We  too,  every  one  of  us,  are  pilgrims  on  the  same  road  ;  and  image's 
and  illustrations  come  back  to  us  from  so  faithful  an  itineracy,  as  we  encounter  similar  trials,  and 
learn  for  ourselves  the  accuracy  with  which  Bunyan  has  described  them.  Time  can  not  impair  its 
interest,  or  intellectual  progress  make  it  cease  to  be  true  to  experience." 

The  Second  Part  of  "The  Pilgrim's  Progress"  partakes  of  the  character  of  all  continuations, 
and  is  in  a  great  measure  only  a  reverberation  of  the  first  part.  But  though  it  is  inferior  on 
the  whole  to  the  first,  it  is  a  work  of  striking  originality  and  graphic  power,  such  as  Bunyan  alone 
could  have  written.  Everywhere  we  find  strokes  of  his  peculiar  genius,  and  though  in  a  smaller 
measure  than  the  first,  it  has  added  not  a  few  portraits  to  Bunyan's  spiritual  picture  gallery  which 


44  LIFE  OF  BUNYAN. 

we  should  be  sorry  to  miss,  and  supplied  us  with  racy  sayings  which  stick  to  the  memory.  But 
with  all  its  excellencies,  and  they  are  many,  the  general  inferiority  of  the  history  of  Christiana  and 
her  children's  pilgrimage  must  be  acknowledged.  The  story  is  less  skilfully  constructed;  the 
interest  is  sometimes  allowed  to  flag ;  the  dialogues  that  interrupt  the  narrative  are  in  places  dry 
and  wearisome — too  much  of  sermons  in  disguise.  On  the  whole  we  may  well  be  content  that 
Bunyan  never  carried  out  the  idea  hinted  at  in  the  closing  words  of  his  allegory :  "  Shall  it  be  my 
lot  to  go  that  way  again,  I  may  give  those  that  desire  it  an  account  of  what  I  am  here  silent  about; 
In  the  meantime  I  bid  my  reader — Adieu." 

Bunyan's  second  great  allegorical  work,  "  The  Holy  War,"  is  an  attempt  to  clothe  what  writers 
on  divinity  call  "  the  plan  of  salvation  "  in  a  figurative  dress.  In  the  nature  of  things  such  an 
attempt  cannot  be  perfectly  successful ;  the  narrative,  with  all  its  vividness  of  description  in  parts, 
its  clearly  drawn  characters  with  their  picturesque  nomenclature,  and  the  stirring  vicissitudes  of  the 
drama,  is  necessarily  wanting  in  the  personal  interest  which  attaches  to  an  individual  man,  like 
Christian,  and  those  who  are  linked  with  or  follow  his  career.  The  narrative  moves  in  a  more 
shadowy  region ;  an  undefined  sense  of  unreality  pursues  us  through  the  story,  which,  however, 
draws  its  scenes  and  circumstances,  and  to  some  extent  its  dramatis  per s once,  from  the  writer's  own 
surroundings  in  the  town  and  corporation  of  Bedford,  and  his  brief  but  stirring  experience  as 
a  soldier  in  the  great  Parliamentary  War.  The  catastrophe,  also,  is  eminently  unsatisfactory. 
After  all  the  endless  vicissitudes  of  the  conflict,  and  the  final  and  glorious  victory  of  Emmanuel  and 
his  forces,  and  the  execution  of  the  ringleaders  of  the  mutiny,  the  issue  still  remains  doubtful. 
The  town  of  Mansoul  is  left  open  to  fresh  attacks,  and  its  worst  enemies  are  still  at  large. 

One  more  work  of  Bunyan's  still  remains  to  be  briefly  noticed,  as  bearing  the  characteristic 
stamp  of  his  genius,  "The  Life  and  Death  of  Mr.  Badman."  The  original  design  of  this  book  was 
to  furnish  a  contrast  to  "  The  Pilgrim's  Progress."  It  is,  however,  totally  unlike  the  latter  both  in 
form  and  execution.  The  one  is  an  allegory,  the  other  a  tale,  describing,  without  imagery  or 
metaphor,  in  the  plainest  language,  the  career  of  a  vulgar,  middle-class,  unprincipled  scoundrel. 
It  is  certainly  a  remarkable,  if  an  offensive  book.  We  can  hardly  believe  that  we  have  not  a 
real  history  before  us.  We  feel  that  there  is  no  reason  why  the  events  recorded  should  not 
have  happened.  There  are  no  surprises,  no  unlooked-for  catastrophes,  no  providential  interposi- 
tions to  punish  the  sinner  or  rescue  the  good  man.  Badman's  pious  wife  is  made  to  pay  the 
penalty  of  allowing  herself  to  be  deceived  by  a  tall,  good-looking,  hypocritical  scoundrel.  He 
himself  pursues  his  evil  way  to  the  end,  sinning  on  to  the  last,  and  dying  with  a  heart  that  cannot 
repent. 


PART  I. 


'AS   I   SLEPT,    I    DREAMED   A  DREAM." 


THE 


AUTHORS  APOLOGY  FOR  HIS  HOOK. 


HEN  at  the  first  I  took  my  pen  in  hand 
Thus  tor  to  write,  I  did  not  understand 
That  I  at  all  should  make  a  little  book 
In  such  a  mode :  nay,  I  had  undertook 
To  make  another,  which  when  almost  done, 
Before  I  was  aware,  I  this  begun. 

And  thus  it  was:  I,  writing  of  the  way 
And  race  of  saints^  in  this  our  gospel  day, 
Fell  suddenly  into  an_allegory 
About  their  journey  and  the  way  to  glory. 
In  more  than  twenty  things  which  I  set  down. 
This  done,  I  twenty  more  had  in  my  crown ; 
And  they  again  began  to  multiply. 
Like  sparks  that  from  the  coals  of  fire  do  fly, 
Nay,  then,  thought  I,  if  that  you  breed  so  fast 
I  '11  put  you  by  yourselves,  lest  you  at  last 
Should  prove  ad  infinitum,  and  eat  out 
The  book  that  I  already  am  about. 
Well,  so  I  did  ;  but  yet  I  did  not  think 
To  show  to  all  the  world  my  pen  and  ink 
In  such  a  mode  ;  I  only  thought  to  make 
\  knew  not  what :  nor  did  I  undertake 
Thereby  to  please  my  neighbor ;  no,  not  I  ; 
I  did  it  my  own  self  to  gratify.  <-~ 

Neither  did  I  but  vacant  seasons  spend 
In  this  my  scribble ;  nor  did  I  intend 
But  to  divert  myself  in  doing  this 
From  worser  thoughts,  which  make  me  do  amiss 
Thus  I  set  pen  to  paper  with  delight, 
And  quickly  had  my  thoughts  in  black  and  white: 
For  having  now  my  method  by  the  end, 
Still  as  I  pulled  it  came,  and  so  I  penned 
It  down,  until  it  came  at  last  to  be, 
For  length  and  breadth,  the  bigness  which  you  see. 


<J/  Lit 


48  THE  A UTHOR'S  APOLOGY. 

Well,  when  I  had  thus  put  mine  ends  together, 
I  showed  them  others,  that  I  might  see  whether 
They  would  condemn  them  or  them  justify  ; 
And  some  said,  Let  them  live ;  some,  Let  them  die : 
Some  said,  John,  print  it ;  others  said,  Not  so : 
Some  said,  It  might  do  good ;  others  said,  No. 

Now  was  I  in  a  strait,  and  did  not  see 
Which  was  the  best  thing  to  be  done  by  me : 
At  last  I  thought,  Since  ye  are  thus  divided, 

I  print  it  will ;  and  so  the  case  decided. 
. 

For,  thought  I,  some  I  see  would  have  it  done. 

Though  others  in  that  channel  do  not  run : 
To  prove  then  who  advis6d  for  the  best, 
Thus  I  thought  fit  to  put  it  to  the  test. 

I  further  thought,  if  now  I  did  deny 
Those  that  would  have  it,  thus  to  gratify, 
I  did  not  know  but  hinder  them  I  might 
Of  that  which  would  to  them  be  great  delight. 
For  those  which  were  not  for  its  coming  forth, 
I  said  to  them,  Offend  you  I  am  loath ; 
Yet  since  your  brethren  pleased  with  it  be, 
Forbear  to  judge  till  you' do  further  see. 

If  that  thou  wilt  not  read,  let  it  alone ; 
Some  love  the  meat,  some  love  to  pick  the  bone, 
Yea,  that  I  might  them  better  palliate, 
I  did  too  with  them  thus  expostulate : 

May  I  not  write  in  such  a  style  as  this, 
In  such  a  method  too,  and  yet  not  miss 
My  end,  thy  good  ?     Why  may  it  not  be  done  ? 
Dark  clouds  bring  waters,  when  the  bright  bring  none. 
Yea,  dark  or  bright,  if  they  their  silver  drops 
Cause  to  descend,  the  earth,  by  yielding  crops, 
Gives  praise  to  both,  and  carpeth  not  at  either, 
But  treasures  up  the  fruit  they  yield  together  ; 
Yea,  so  commixes  both  that  in  their  fruit 
None  can  distinguish  this  from  that :  they  suit 
Het  well  when  hungry  ;  but  if  she  be  full, 
She  spews  out  both,  and  makes  their  blessing  null. 

You  see  the  ways  the  fisherman  doth  take 
To  catch  the  fish — what  engines  doth  he  make ! 
Behold  how  he  engageth  all  his  wits, 
Also  his  snares,  lines,  angles,  hooks,  and  nets : 


THE  AUTHOR'S  APOLOGY.  49 

Yet  fish  there  be  that  neither  hook  nor  line, 
Nor  snare,  nor  net,  nor  engine,  can  make  thine ; 
They  must  be  groped  for,  and  be  tickled  too, 
Or  they  will  not  be  catched,  whate'er  you  do. 

How  does  the  fowler  seek  to  catch  his  game 
By  divers  means,  all  which  one  cannot  name  — 
His  guns,  his  nets,  his  lime-twigs,  light,  and  bell: 
He  creeps,  he  goes,  he  stands ;  yea,  who  can  tell 
Of  all  his  postures  ?  yet  there  's  none  of  these 
Will  make  him  master  of  what  fowls  he  please. 
Yea,  he  must  pipe  and  whistle  to  catch  this; 
Yet  if  he  does  so,  that  bird  he  will  miss. 
If  that  a  pearl  may  in  a  toad's  head  dwell, 
And  may  be  found  too  in  an  oyster-shell ; 
If  things  that  promise  nothing  do  contain 
What  better  is  than  gold,  who  will  disdain, 
That  have  an  inkling  of  it,  there  to  look, 
That  they  may  find  it  ?     Now,  my  little  book, 
Though  void  of  all  these  paintings  that  may  make 
It  with  this  or  the  other  man  to  take, 
Is  not  without  those  things  that  do  excel 
What  do  in  brave  but  empty  notions  dwell. 

"  Well,  yet  I  am  not  fully  satisfied 
That  this  your  book  will  stand,  when  soundly  tried." 

Why,  what 's  the  matter  ?     "  jt  is  dark."     What  though  ? 

"  But  it  is  feigned."     What  of  that  ?     I  trow 

Some  men  by  feigne'd  words,  as  dark  as  mine,      ^- 

Make  truth  to  spangle  and  its  rays  to  shine. 

"  But  they  want  sol'dness."     Speak,  man,  thy  mind. 

"  They  drown  the  weak  ;  metaphors  make  us  blind." 

Solidity,  indeed,  becomes  the  pen 
Of  him  that  writeth  things  divine  to  men ; 
But  must  I  needs  want  solidness  because 
By  metaphors  I  speak  ?     Were  not  God's  laws, 
His  gospel  laws,  in  olden  time  held  forth 
By  shadows,  types,  and  metaphors  ?     Yet  loath 
Will  any  sober  man  be  to  find  fault 

With  them,  lest  he  be  found  for  to  aj/ault 

'^ 

The  highest  wisdom.     No,  he  rather  stoops, 
And  seeks  to  find  out  what,  by  pins  and  loops, 
By  calves  and  sheep,  by  heifers  and  by  rams, 
By  birds  and  herbs,  and  by  the  blood  of  lambs, 


50  THE  AUTHOR'S  APOLOGY 

God  speaketh  to  him ;  and  happy  is  he 
That  finds  the  light  and  grace  that  in  them  be. 
Be  not  too  forward,  therefore,  to  conclude 
That  I  want  solidness — that  I  am  rude : 
All  things  solid  in  show  not  solid  be ; 
All  things  in  parable  despise  not  we, 
Lest  things  most  hurtful  lightly  we  receive, 
And  things  that  good  are,  of  our  soul  bereave. 
My  dark  and  cloudy  words  they  do  but  hold 
The  truth,  as  cabinets  inclose  the  gold. 

The  prophets  used  much  by  metaphors 
To  set  forth  truth  ;  yea,  whoso  considers 
Christ,  his  apostles  too,  shall  plainly  see 
That  truths  to  this  day  in  such  mantles  be. 

Am  I  afraid  to  say  that  holy  writ, 
Which  for  its  style  and  phrase  puts  down  all  wit, 
Is  everywhere  so  full  of  all  these  things, 
Dark  figures,  allegories  ?     Yet  there  springs 
From  that  same  book  that  lustre  and  those  rays 
Of  light  that  turn  our  darkest  nights  to  days. 

Come,  let  my  carper  to  his  life  now  look, 
And  find  there  darker  lines  than  in  my  book 
He  findeth  any ;  yea,  and  let  him  know 
That  in  his  best  things  there  are  worse  lines  too. 

May  we  but  stand  before  impartial  men, 
To  his  poor  one  I  durst  adventure  ten 
That  they  will  take  my  meaning  in  these  lines 
Far  better  than  his  lies  in  silver  shrines. 
Come!  Truth,  although  in  swaddling-clothes,  I  find 
Y  Informs  the  judgment,  rectifies  the  mind, 
Pleases  the  understanding,  makes  the  will 
Submit ;  the  memory  also  it  doth  fill 
With  what  doth  our  imagination  please; 
Likewise  it  tends  our  troubles  to  appease. 

Sound  words,  I  know,  Timotky  is  to  use, 
And  old  wives'  fables  he  is  to  refuse ; 
But  yet  grave  Paul  him  nowhere  doth  forbid 
The  use  of  parables,  in  which  lay  hid 
That  gold,  those  pearls  and  precious  stones,  that  were 
Worth  digging  for,  and  that  with  greatest  care. 


THE  A  UTHORS  APOLOG  Y.  5 1 

Let  me  add  one  word  more.     O  man  of  God, 
Art  thou  offended  ?     Dost  thou  wish  I  had 
Put  forth  my  matter  in  another  dress ; 
Or  that  I  had  in  things  been  more  express  ? 
Three  things  let  me  propound ;  then  I  submit 
To  those  that  are  my  betters,  as  is  fit. 

1.  I  find  not  that  I  am  denied  the  use 
Of  this  my  method,  so  I  no  abuse 

Put  on  the  words,  things,  readers,  or  be  rude 
In  handling  figure  or  similitude, 
In  application  ;  but  all  that  I  may 
Seek  the  advance  of  truth  this  or  that  way. 
Denied,  did  I  say  ?     Nay,  I  have  leave — 
Example  too,  and  that  from  them  that  have 
God  better  pleased,  by  their  words  or  ways, 
Than  any  man  that  breatheth  now-a-days — 
Thus  to  express  my  mind,  thus  to  declare 
Things  unto  thee  that  excellentest  are. 

2.  I  find  that  men  as  high  as  trees  will  write 
Dialogue-wise  ;  yet  no  man  doth  them  slight 
For  writing  so.     Indeed,  if  they  abuse 
Truth,  cursed  be  they,  and  the  craft  they  use 
To  that  intent ;  but  yet  let  truth  be  free 

To  make  her  sallies  upon  thee  and  me 
Which  way  it  pleases  -Grxfc  for  who  knows  how, 
Better  than  he  that  taught  us  first  to  plough, 
To  guide  our  minds  and  pens  for  his  design  ? 
And  he  makes  base  things  usher  in  divine. 

3.  I  find  that  holy  writ  in  many  places 

Hath  semblance  with  this  method,  where  the  cases 
Do  call  for  one  thing  to  set  forth  another : 
Usejt  I  may  then,  and  yet  nothing  smother 
Truth's  golden  beams ;  nay,  by  this  method  may 
Make  it  cast  forth  its  rays  as  light  as  day. 

And  now,  before  I  do  put  up  my  pen, 
I  '11  show  the  profit  of  my  book,  and  then 
Commit  both  thee  and  it  unto  that  hand 
That  pulls  the  strong  down  and  makes  weak  ones  stand. 

This  book  it  chalketh  out  before  thine  eyes 
The  man  that  seeks  the  everlasting  prize :  */^ 

It  shows  you  whence  he  comes,  whither  he  goes, 


52  THE  AUTHORS  APOLOGY. 

What  he  leaves  undone,  also  what  he  does; 
It  also  shows  you  how  he  runs,  and  runs, 
Till  he  unto  the  gate  of  glory  comes. 
It  shows  too  who  set  out  for  life  amain, 
As  if  the  lasting  crown  they  would  obtain ; 
Here  also  you  may  see  the  reason  why 
They  lose  their  labor  and  like  fools  do  die. 

This  book  will  make  a  traveller  of  thee, 
If  by  its  counsel  thou  wilt  ruleM  be ; 
It  will  direct  thee  to  the  Holy  Land, 
If  thou  wilt  its  directions  understand : 
Yea,  it  will  make  the  slothful  active  be, 
The  blind  also  delightful  things  to  see. 

Art  thou  for  something  rare  and  profitable ; 
Or  would'st  thou  see  a  truth  within  a  fable  ? 
Art  thou  forgetful  ?     Wouldest  thou  remember 
From  New  Year's  day  to  the  last  of  December  ? 
Then  read  my  fancies ;  they  will  stick  like  burrs, 
And  may  be,  to  the  helpless,  comforters. 

This  book  is  writ  in  such  a  dialect 
As  may  the  minds  of  listless  men  affect : 
It  seems  a  novelty,  and  yet  contains 
Nothing  but  sound  and  honest  gospel  strains. 

Would'st  thou  divert  thyself  from  melancholy  ? 
Would'st  thou  be  pleasant,  yet  be  far  from  folly  ? 
Would'st  thou  read  riddles  and  their  explanation, 
Or  else  be  drowned  in  thy  contemplation  ? 
Dost  thou  love  picking  meat ;   or  would'st  thou  see 
A  man  i'  the  clouds,  and  hear  him  speak  to  thee  ? 
Would'st  thou  be  in  a  dream,  and  yet  not  sleep ; 
Or  would'st  thou  in  a  moment  laugh  and  weep  ? 
Wouldest  thou  lose  thyself,  and  catch  no  harm, 
And  find  thyself  again  without  a  charm  ? 
Would'st  read  thyself,  and  read  thou  know'st  not  what, 
And  yet  know  whether  thou  art  blest  or  not 
By  reading  the  same  lines  ?     Oh,  then  come  hither, 
And  lay  my  book,  thy  head,  and  heart  together. 


rl  SAW  A   MAN   CLOTHED   WITH    KAGS— A  BOOK    IN   HIS   HAND  AND  A   GREAT   BURDEN  ON   HIS   BACK." 


THE 


IN  THE  SIMILITUDE  OF  A  DREAM. 


THE  FIRST  STAGE. 

As  I  walked  through  the  wilderness  of  this  world,  I  lighted  on  a  certain  place 
Bedford  Jan.  where  was  a  den,  and  laid  me  down  in  that  place  to  sleep ;  and  as  I  slept, 
I  dreamed  a  dream.  I  dreamed,  and  behold,  I  saw  a  man  clothed  with  rags  standing 
in  a  certain  place,  with  his  face  from  his  own  house,  a  book  in  his  hand,  and  a  great 
burden  upon  his  back.  Isa.  64 : 6  ;  Luke  14 :  33  ;  Psalm  38  : 4.  I  looked,  and  saw  him 
open  the  book,  and  read  therein ;  and  as  he  read,  he  wept  and  trembled ;  and  not 
being  able  longer  to  contain,  he  brake  out  with  a  lamentable  cry,  saying,  "  What  shall 
I  do  ?"  Acts  2:37;  16 :  30 ;  Hab.  i  :  2,  3. 

In  this  plight,  therefore,  he  went  home,  and  restrained  himself  as  long  as  he  could, 
that  his  wife  and  children  should  not  perceive  his  distress  ;  but  he  could  not  be  silent 
long,  because  that  his  trouble  increased.  Wherefore  at  length  he  brake  his  mind 
to  his  wife  and  children  ;  and  thus  he  began  to  talk  to  them :  "  Oh,  my  dear  wife,"  said 
he,  "  and  you  the  children  of  my  bowels,  I,  your  dear  friend,  am  in  myself  undone 
by  reason  of  a  burden  that  lieth  hard  upon  me.  Moreover,  I  am  certainly  informed 
This  world,  that  this  our  city  will  be  burnt  with  fire  from  heaven  ;  in  which  fearful 
overthrow,  both  myself,  with  thee  my  wife,  and  you  my  sweet  babes,  shall  miserably 
come  to  ruin,  except  (the  which  yet  I  see  not)  some  way  of  escape  can  be  found 
whereby  we  may  be  delivered."  At  this  his  relations  were  sore  amazed  ;  not  for  that 
they  believed  that  what  he  had  said  to  them  was  true,  but  because  they  thought  that 


HE   BRAKE   HIS   MIND  TO   HIS  WIFE  AND  CHILDREN." 


CONVICTION  OF  SIN. 


S7 


some  frenzy  distemper  had  got  into  his 
head ;  therefore,  it  drawing  towards  night, 
and  they  hoping  that  sleep  might  settle  his 
brains,  with  all  haste  they  got  him  to  bed. 
But  the  night  was  as  troublesome  to  him 
as  the  day ;  wherefore,  instead  of  sleeping, 
he  spent  it  in  sighs  and  tears.  So  when  the 
morning  was  come,  they  would  know  how 
he  did.  He  told  them,  "Worse  and  worse  :" 
lie  also  set  to  talking  to  them  again ;  but 
camai  physic  tne7  began  to  be  hardened. 
They  also  thought  to  drive 
away  his  distemper  by  harsh  and_surly 
carriage  to  him ;  sometimes  they  would 
deride,  sometimes  they  would  chide,  and 
sometimes  they  would  quite  neglect  him. 
Wherefore  he  began  to  retire  himself  to 
his  chamber  to  pray  for  and  pity  them,  and 
also  to  condole  his  own  misery ;  he  would 


"GREATLY  DISTRESSKD  IN  HIS  MIND." 


"HE  RETIRED  HIMSELF  TO  HIS  CHAMBER  TO  PRAY." 

also  walk  solitarily  in  the  fields,  sometimes 
reading  and  sometimes  praying :  and  thus 
for  some  days  he  spent  his  time. 

Now  I  saw,  upon  a  time,  when  he  was 
walking  in  the  fields,  that  he  was  (as  he 
was  wont)  reading  in  his  book,  and  greatly 
distressed  in  his  mind  ;  and  as  he  read,  he 
burst  out,  as  he  had  done  before,  crying, 
"What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved?"  Acts 
16:30,  31. 

I  saw  also  that  he  looked  this  way, 
and  that  way,  as  if  he  would  run ;  yet 
he  stood  still  because  (as  I  perceived)  he 
could  not  tell  which  way  to  go.  I  looked 
then,  and  saw  a  man  named  Evangelist 
coming  to  him,  and  he  asked,  <vWhere- 
fore  dost  thou  cry  ?" 

He  answered,  "  Sir,  I  perceive,  by  the 
book  in  my  hand,  that  I  am  condemned 


DO  YOU  SEE  YONDER  WICKET-GATE?" 


ENTERING  ON  PILGRIMAGE. 


59 


v7-iiri<i  : 


out  the  \ord. 


to  die,  and  after  that  to  come  to  judgment,  Heb.  9:27;  and  I  find  that  I  am  not  willing 
to  do  the  first,  Job  10  :  21,  22,  nor  able  to  do  the  second."  Ezek.  22  :  14. 

Then  said  Evangelist,  "  Why  not  willing  to  die,  since  this  life  is  attended  with 
so  many  evils  ?"  The  man  answered,  "  Because  I  fear  that  this  burden  that  is  upon 
my  back  will  sink  me  lower  than  the  grave,  and  I  shall  fall  into  Tophet.  Isa.  30  :  33. 
And,  sir,  if  I  be  not  fit  to  go  to  prison,  I  am  not  fit  to  go  to  judgment,  and  from  thence 
to  execution  ;  and  the  thoughts  of  these  things  make  me  cry." 

conviction  of          Then  said  Evangelist,  "  If  this  be  thy  condition,  why  standest  thou 

the    necessity    of 

fleeing,  ^vjpr—  still?  He  answered,  "Because  I  know  not  whither  to  go."  Then  he 
gave  liim  a  parchment  roll,  and  there  was  written  within,  "  Flee  from  the  wrath  to 
come."  Matt.  3  :  7. 

The  man  therefore  read  it,  and,  looking  upon  Evangelist  very  carefully,  said, 
"  Whither  must  I  fly  ?"  Then  said  Evangelist  (pointing  with  his  finger  over  a  very 
wide  field),  "  Do  you  see  yonder  wicket-gate  ?"  Matt.  7:13,  14.  The  man  said,  "  No." 

iri<i  :ind  UK-  Then  said  the  other,  "  Do  you  see  yonder  shining  light?"  .  Psa.  1  19  :  105  ; 
2  Pet.  i  :  19.    He  said,  "  I  think  I  do."    Then  said  Evangelist,  "  Keep  that 
in  your  eye,  and  go  up  directly  thereto,  so  shalt  thou  see  the  gate  ; 
at  which  when  thou  knockest,  it  shall  be  told 
thee  what  thou  shalt  do."     So  I  saw  in  my 
dream  that  the  man  began  to  run.     Now  he 
had  not  run  far  from  his  own  door  when  his 
wife  and   children,  perceiving  it,  began  to 
cry  after  him  to  return  ;  but  the  man  put 
'•his   fingers  in  his  ears  and  ran  dn,  crying. 
"  Life  !  life  !  eternal  life  !"     Luke  14  :  26.     So 
he  looked  not  behind  him,  Gen.   19:  17,  but 
fled  towards  the  middle  of  the  plain. 

The  neighbors  also  came  out  to  see  him 

run,  Jer.  20  :  10  ;  and  as  he  ran,  some  mocked, 

others  threatened,  and  some  cried  after  him 

They  that  flee  to  return  ;  and  among  those  that 

from  tlie  wrath  to     . 

come    are    a    pea-    did   SOP   there   Were    two   that   re- 

zing-stock  to   the  . 

world.  solved  to   fetch    him    back  by 

force.     The  name  of  the  one  was  Obstinate, 

and  the  name  of  the  other  Pliable.     Now  by 

this  time  the  man  was  got  a  good  distance 

from  them  ;  but,  however,  they  were  resolved 

to  pursue  him,  which  they  did,  £uid  in  a  little 

time  they  overtook  him.   Then  said  the  man, 

"  Neighbors,  wherefore  are  ye  come  ?"    They 

said.  "  To  persuade  you  to  go  back  with  us." 

But  he  said,  "  That  can  by  no  means  be  :  you  dwell,"  said  he,  "  in  the  city  of  Destruc- 

tion, the  place  also  where  I  was  born.    I  see  it  to  be  so  ;  and  dying  there,  sooner  or 


OBSTINATE. 


6o 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


later  you  will  sink  lower  than  the  grave,  into  a  place  that  burns  with  fire  and  brim- 
stone.     Be  content,  good  neighbors,  and  go  along  with  me." 

"  What,"  said  Obstinate,  "  and  leave  our  friends  and  our  comforts  behind  us !" 
"Yes,"  said  Christian  (for  that  was  his  name),  "because  that  all  which  you  for- 
sake is  not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  a  little  of  that  I  am  seeking  to  enjoy,  2  Cor. 
4:18;  and  if  you  will  go  along  with  me,  and  hold  it,  you  shall  fare  as  I  myself ;  for 
there,  where  I  go,  is  enough  and  to  spare.  Luke  15  : 17.  Come  away,  and  prove  my 
words." 

OBST.  What  are  the  things  you  seek,  since  you  leave  all  the  world  to  find  them  ? 

CHR.  I  seek  an  in-heritance  incor-ruptibl^-iinde- 
filed,  and  that-fadeth—net -awayy-i  Pet.  1:4;  and  it 
is  laid  up  in  heaven,  and  safe  there,  Heb.  1 1 : 16,  to  be 
bestowed,  at  the  time  appointed,  on  them  that  dili- 
gently seek  it.  Read  it  so,  if  you  will,  in  my  book. 

"  Tush  !"  said  Obstinate,  "away  with  your  book. 
Will  you  go  back  with  us,  or  no  ?" 

"  No,  not  I,"  said  the  other,  "  because  I  have  laid 
my  hand  to  the  plough."  Luke  9 : 62. 

OBST.  Come  then,  neighbor  Pliable,  let  us  turn 
•again  and  go  home  without  him :  there  is  a  com- 
pany of  these  crazy-headed  coxcombs,  that  when  they 
take  a  fancy  by  the  end,  are  wiser  in  their  own  eyes 
than  seven  men  that  can  render  a  reason. 

Then  said  Pliable,  "  Do  n't  revile.  If  what  good 
Christian  says  is~true,  the  things  he  looks  after  are 
better  than  ours.  My  heart  inclines  to  go  with  my 
neighbor." 

OBST.  What,  more  fools  still !  Be  ruled  by  me, 
and  go  back ;  who  knows  whither  such  a  brain-sick 
fellow  will  lead  you  ?  Go  back,  go  back,  and  be  wise. 

CHR.  Nay,  but  do  thou  come  with  thy  neighbor  Pliable.     There  are  such  things 
to  be  had  which  I  spoke  of,  and  many  more  glories  besides.      If  you       Christian  and 

0  ....      Obstinate  pull  for 

believe  not  me,  read  here  in  this  book ;  and  for  the-  truth  of  what  is  raawe's  mm. 
expressed    therein,  behold,   all  is  confirmed  by  the  blood   of    Him   that  made   it. 
Heb.  9 : 1 7-2 1 . 

"  Well,  neighbor  Obstinate,"  said  Pliable,  "  I  begin  to  come  to  a  point ;  I  intend  to 
go  along  with  this  good  man,  and  to  cast  in  my  lot  with  him. 
good  companion,  do  you  know  the  way  to  this  desired  place  ?" 

CHR.  I  am  directed  by  a  man,  whose  name  is  Evangelist,  to  speed  me  to  a  little 
gate  that  is  before  us,  where  we  shall  receive  instructions  about  the  way. 

PLI.  Come  then,  good  neighbor,  let  us  be  going. 

"  And  I  will  go  back  to  my  place,"  said  Obstinate :  "  I  will  be  no  companion  of 
such  misled,  fantastical  fellows." 


But,  my  Pliable     con- 

senteth  to  go  with 
Christian. 


OBSTINATE  AND  PLIABLE.  6l 

Talk  between          Now  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  when  Obstinate  was  gone  back,  Chris. 

Christian  and  Pli-      .  . 

awe.  tian  and  Pliable  went  talking  over  the  plain  ;  and  thus  they  began  their 

discourse : 

CHR.  Come,  neighbor  Pliable,  how  do  you  do  ?  I  am  glad  you  are  persuaded  to 
go  along  with  me.  Had  even  Obstinate  himself  but  felt  what  I  have  felt  of  the 
powers  and  terrors  of  what  is  yet  unseen,  he  would  not  thus  lightly  have  given  us 
the  back. 

PLI.  Come,  neighbor  Christian,  since  there  are  none  but  us  two  here,  tell  me  now 
farther  what  the  things  are,  and  how  to  be  enjoyed,  whither  we  are  going. 

CHR.  I  can  better  conceive  of  them  with  my  mind  than  speak  of  them  with  my 
tongue :  but  yet,  since  you  are  desirous  to  know,  I  will  read  of  them  in  my  book. 

PLI.  And  do  you  think  that  the  words  of  your  book  are  certainly  true  ? 

CHR.  Yes,  verily  ;  for  it  was  made  by  Him  that  cannot  lie.     Tit.  i  :  2. 

PLI.  Well  said  ;  what  things  are  they  ? 

CHR.  There  is  an  endless  kingdom  to  be  inhabited,  and  everlasting  life  to  be    Y 
given  us,  that  we  may  inhabit  that  kingdom  for  ever.     Isa.  65  :  17  ;  John  10 : 27-29. 

PLI.  Well  said  ;  and  what  else  ? 

CHR.  There  are  crowns  of  glory  to  be  given  us,  and  garments  that  will  make 
us  shine  like   the   sun   in   the   firmament    of    heaven.      2   Tim.   4:8;  Rev.   22 : 5 
Matt.  13:43- 

PLI.  This  is  very  pleasant ;  and  what  else  ? 

CHR.  There  shall  be  no  more  crying,  nor  sorrow ;  for  he  that  is  owner  of  the 
place  will  wipe  all  tears  from  our  eyes.  Isa.  25  :  8  ;  Rev.  7 :  16,  17  ;  21  : 4. 

PLI.  And  what  company  shall  we  have  there  ? 

CHR.  There  we  shall  be  with  seraphim  and  cherubim,  Isa.  6:2;:  Thess.  4 :  16, 
17;  Rev.  5:11;  creatures  that  will  dazzle  your  eyes  to  look  on  them.  There  also 
you  shall  meet  with  thousands  and  ten  thousands  that  have  gone  before  us  to  that 
place :  none  of  them  are  hurtful,  but  loving  and  holy  ;  every  one  walking  in  the  sight 
of  God,  and  standing  in  his  presence-  with  acceptance  for  ever.  In  a  word,  there  we 
shall  see  the  elders  with  their  golden  crowns,  Rev.  4:4;  there  we  shall  see  the  holy 
virgins  with  their  golden  harps,  Rev.  14:  1-5;  there  we  shall  see  men  that  by  the 
world  were  cut  in  pieces,  burnt  in  flames,  eaten  of  beasts,  drowned  in  the  seas,  for 
the  love  they  bore  to  the  Lord  of  the  place,  John  12:  25,  all  well,  and  clothed  with 
immortality  as  with  a  garment.  2  Cor :  5  :  2. 

PLI.  The  hearing  of  this  is  enough  to  ravish  one's  heart.  But  are  these  things 
to  be  enjoyed  ?  How  shall  we  get  to  be  sharers  thereof  ? 

CHR.  The  Lord,  the  governor  of  the  country,  hath  recorded  that  in  this  book, 
Isa.  55  :  I,  2  ;  John  6 :  37  ;  7  :  37  ;  Rev.  21:6;  22  :  17  ;  the  substance  of  which  is,  if  we 
be  truly  willing  to  have  it,  he  will  bestow  it  upon  us  freely. 

PLI.  Well,  my  good  companion,  glad  am  I  to  hear  of  these  things.  Come  on, 
let  us  mend  our  pace. 

CHR.  I  cannot  go  so  fast  as  I  would,  by  reason  of  this  burden  that  is  o'n  my  back. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  just  as  they  had  ended  this  talk,  they  drew  nigh 


62  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

to  a  very  miry  slough  that  was  in  the  midst  of  the  plain :  and  they  being  heedless, 
did  both   fall  suddenly  into  the  bog.     The   name  of  the  slough  was       The  Slough  of 
Despond.     Here,  therefore,  they  wallowed  for  a  time,  being  grievously  DesP°nd- 
bedaubed  with   dirt ;  and  Christian,  because  of  the  burden  that  was  on  his  back, 
began  to  sink  in  the  mire. 

Then  said  Pliable,  "Ah,  neighbor  Christian,  where  are  you  now  ?" 

"  Truly,"  said  Christian,  "  I  do  not  know." 

At  this  Pliable  began  to  be  offended,  and  angrily  said  to  his  fellow,  "  Is  this 
the  happiness  you  have  told  me  all  this  while  of?  If  we  have  such  ill  speed  at 
our  first  setting  out,  what  may  we  expect  between  this  and  our  journey's  end  ?  May 
I  2"et  out  aeain  with  mv  life,  vou  shall  possess  the  brave  country  alone  it  is  not 

6  J  J  enough  to  Be  pli- 

for  me."     And  with  that  he  gave  a  desperate  struggle  or  two,  and  got  able. 

out  of  the  mire  on  that  side  of  the   slough  which  was   next  to  his  own  house:  so 

away  he  went,  and  Christian  saw  him  no  more. 

Wherefore  Christian  was  left  to  tumble  in  the  Slough  of  Despond  alone :  but 
still  he  endeavored  to  struggle  to  that  side  of  the  slough  that  was  Cnrlstian>  ,„ 
farthest  from  his  own  house  and  next  to  the  wicket-gate ;  the  which  he  SS&SrftS! 
did,  but  could  not  get  out  because  of  the  burden  that  was  upon  his  back.  his  own  house> 
But  I  beheld  in  my  dream  that  a  man  came  to  him,  whose  name  was  Help,  and 
asked  him  what  he  did  there. 

"  Sir,"  said  Christian,  "  I  was  bid  to  go  this  way  by  a  man  called  Evangelist, 
who  directed  me  also  to  yonder  gate,  that  I  might  escape  the  wrath  to  come.  And 
as  I  was  going  thither,  I  fell  in  here." 

HELP.  But  why  did  not  you  look  for  the  steps  ?  The  promises. 

CHR.  Fear  followed  me  so  hard  that  I  fled  the  next  way,  and  fell  in. 
x     Then  said  Help,  "Give  me  thy  hand."     So  he  gave  him  his  hand,  and  he  drew 
him  out,  Psa.  40 :  2,  and  he  set  him  upon  sound  ground,  and  bid  him  go  on  his  way. 

Then  I  stepped  to  him  that  plucked  him  out,  and  said,  "  Sir,  wherefore,  since 

over  this  place  is  the  way  from  the  city  of  Destruction  to  yonder  gate,  is  it  that 

this  plat  is  not  mended,  that  poor  travellers  might  go  thither  with  more  security  ?" 

And  he  said  unto  me,  "  This  miry  slough  is  such  a  place  as  cannot       what   makes 

(be  mended:  it  is  the  descent  whither  the  scum  and  filth  that  attends  spond°ug 

./  conviction  for  sin  doth   continually   run,  and   therefore  it  is  called  the  Slough   of 

Despond;  for  still,  as  the  sinner  is  awakened  about  his  lost  condition,  there  arise 

in  his  soul   many  fears  and  doubts,  and  discouraging  apprehensions,  which  all  of 

them  get  together   and  settle  in  this  place :  and  this  is  the  reason  of  the  badness 

of  this  ground. 

"  It  is  not  the  pleasure  of  the  King  that  this  place  should  remain  so  bad. 
Isa.  35  :  3,  4.  His  laborers  also  have,  by  the  direction  of  his  Majesty's  surveyors,  been 
for  above  these  sixteen  hundred  years  employed  about  this  patch  of  ground,  if  perhaps 
it  might  have  been  mended :  yea,  and  to  my  knowledge,"  said  he  "  there  have  been 
swallowed  up  at  least  twenty  thousand  cartloads,  yea,  millions  of  wholesome  instruc- 
tions, that  have  at  all  seasons  been  brought  from  all  places  of  the  King's  dominions 


11  CHRISTIAN  STILL  ENDEAVORED  TO  STRUGGLE  TO  THAT  SIDE  OF  THE  SLOUGH  THAT  WAS  FARTHEST  FROM   HIS  OWN  HOUSE.' 


64 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


The  promise8 


(and  they  that  can  tell  say  that  they  are  the  best  materials  to  make  good  ground 
of  the  place),  if  so  be  it  might  have  been  mended  ;  but  it  is  the  Slough  of  Despond 
still,  and  so  will  be  when  they  have  done  what  they  can. 

"  True,  there  are,  by  the  direction  of  the  Lawgiver,  certain  good  and  substantial 
steps  placed  even  through  the  very  midst  of  this  slough  ;  but  at  such 
time  as  this  place  doth  much  spew  out  its  filth,  as  it  doth  against  change 
of  weather,  these  steps  are  hardly  seen  ;  or  if  they  be,  men,  through  ln  Christ- 
the  dizziness  of  their  heads,  step  beside,  and  then  they  are  bemired  to  purpose, 
notwithstanding  the  steps  be  there  :  but  the  ground  is  good  when  they  are  once 
got  in  at  the  gate."  i  Sam.  12  :  23. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  by  this  time  Pliable  was  got  home  to  his  house. 
So  his  neighbors  came  to  visit  him  ;  and  some  of  them  called  him  wise  puai>ie  is  vis- 
man  for  coming  back,  and  some  called  him  fool  for  hazarding  himself  bon. 
with  Christian  :  others,  again,  did  mock  at  his  cowardliness,  saying,  "  Surely,  since 
you  began  to  venture,  I  would  not  have  been  so  base  as  to  have  given  out  for  a 
few  difficulties:"  so  Pliable  sat  sneaking  among  them.  But  at  last  he  got  more 
confidence,  and  then  they  all  turned  their  tails  and  began  to  deride  poor  Christian 
behind  his  back.  And  thus  much  concerning  Pliable. 

Now  as  Christian  was  walk- 
ing  solitary  by  himself,  he  espied 
one  afar  off  come  crossing  over 
the  field  to  meet  him  ;  and  their 
hap  was  to  meet  Mr.  woruiiy 

Wiseman      meets 
jUSt     as    they    Were    with  Christian. 

crossing  the  way  of  each  other. 
The  gentleman's  name  that  met 
him  was  Mr.  Worldly  Wiseman  : 
he  dwelt  in  the  town  of  Carnal 
Policy,  a  very  great  town,  and 
also  hard  by  from  whence  Chris- 
tian came.  This  man  then  meet- 
ing with  Christian,  and  having 
some  inkling  of  him  (for  Chris- 
tian's setting  forth  from  the  city 
°f  Destruction  was  much  noised 
abroad,  not  only  in  the  town 
where  he  dwelt,  but  also  it  be- 
gan to  be  the  town-talk  in  some 
other  places)  —  Mr.  Worldly  Wise. 
man,  therefore,  having  some 

guess  of  him,  by  beholding  his  laborious  going,  by  observing  his  sighs  and  groans, 

and  the  like,  began  thus  to  enter  into  some  talk  with  Christian. 

WORLD.  How  now,  good  fellow  ;  whither  away  after  this  burdened  manner? 


MR.    WORLDLY   WISEMAN. 


WORLDLY  WISEMAN'S  COUNSEL.  65 

CHR.  A  burdened  manner,  indeed,  as  ever  I  think  poor  creature  had!  And 
whereas  you  ask  me,  Whither  away?  I  tell  you,  sir,  I  am  going  to  yonder  wicket- 
gate  before  me ;  for  there,  as  I  am  informed,  I  shall  be  put  into  a  way  to  be  rid 
of  my  heavy  burden. 

WORLD.  Hast  thou  a  wife  and  children  ? 

CHR.  Yes  ;  but  I  am  so  laden  with  this  burden  that  I  cannot  take  that  pleasure 
in  them  as  formerly :  methinks  I  am  as  if  I  had  none. 

WORLD.  Wilt  thou  hearken  to  me,  if  I  give  thee  counsel  ? 

CHR.  If  it  be  good,  I  will ;  for  I  stand  in  need  of  good  counsel. 

WORLD.  I  would  advise  thee,  then,  that  thou  with  all  speed  get  thyself  rid  cf 
wondiy  wise-  thy  burden  ;  for  thou  wilt  never  be  settled  in  thy  mind  till  then :  nor 

man's   counsel  to  —  . 

Christian.  canst  thou  enjoy  the  benefits  of  the  blessings  which  God  hath  bestowed 

upon  thee  till  then. 

CIIR.  That  is  that  which  I  seek  for,  even  to  be  rid  of  this  heavy  burden :  but 
get  it  off  myself  I  cannot,  nor  is  there  any  man  in  our  country  that  can  take  it  off 
my  shoulders ;  therefore  I  am  going  this  way,  as  I  told  you,  that  I  may  be  rid  of 
my  burden. 

WORLD.  Who  bid  thee  go  this  way  to  be  rid  of  thy  burden  ? 

CIIR.  A  man  that  appeared  to  me  to  be  a  very  great  and  honorable  person :  his 
name,  as  I  remember,  is  Evangelist. 

WORLD.  I  beshrew  him  for  his  counsel !  There  is  not  a  more  dangerous  and 
Mr.  wondiy  troublesome  way  in  the  world  than  is  that  into  which  he  hath  directed 
Sen!1  Evi  tnee'>  and  that  tnou  snalt  find>  if  thou  wilt  be  ruled  by  his  counsel, 
•ounsei.  Thou  ^ast  met  ^^  something,  as  I  perceive,  already  ;  for  I  see  that 
the  dirt  of  the  Slough  of  Despond  is  upon  thee :  but  that  slough  is  the  beginning  of 
the  sorrows  that  do  attend  those  that  go  on  in  that  way.  Hear  me  ;  I  am  older  than 
thou:  thou  art  like  to  meet  with,  in  the  way  which  thou  goest,  wearisomeness, 
painfulness,  hunger,  perils,  nakedness,  sword,  lions,  dragons,  darkness,  and,  in  a  word, 
death,  and  what  not.  These  things  are  certainly  true,  having  been  confirmed  by 
many  testimonies.  And  should  a  man  so  carelessly  cast  away  himself  by  giving 
heed  to  a  stranger  ? 

CHR.  Why,  sir,  this  burden  upon  my  back  is  more  terrible  to  me  than  all 
The  frame  of  these  things  which  you  have  mentioned.  Nay,  methinks  I  care  not 

the    heart    of    a  *  .    J  .  .      ,    . . 

young  Christian,  what  I  meet  with  in  the  way,  if  so  be  I  can  also  meet  with  deliverance 
from  my  burden. 

WORLD.  How  earnest  thou  by  thy  burden  at  first  ? 

CHR.  By  reading  this  book  in  my  hand. 

WORLD.  I  thought  so  ;  and  it  has  happened  unto  thee  as  to  other  weak  men, 
ne  does  not  who,  meddling  with  thingfs  too  high  for  them,  do  suddenly  fall  into 

Ifke     that      men  ' 

should  be  serious  thy  distractions  ;  which  distractions  do  not  only  unman  men,  as  thine 

in  reading  the  Bi-          J 

I  perceive  have  done  thee,  but  they  run  them  upon  desperate  ventures, 
to  obtain  they  know  not  what. 

CHR.  I  know  what  I  would  obtain  ;  it  is  ease  from  my  heavy  burden. 
9 


66  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

WORLD.  But  why  wilt  thou  seek  for  ease  this  way,  seeing  so  many  dangers 
attend  it  ?  especially  since  (hadst  thou  but  patience  to  hear  me)  I  could  direct  thee 
to  the  obtaining  of  what  thou  desirest  without  the  dangers  that  thou  in  this  way 
wilt  run  thyself  into.  Yea,  and  the  remedy  is  at  hand.  Besides,  I  will  add,  that 
instead  of  these  dangers,  thou  shalt  meet  with  much  safety,  friendship,  and  content. 

CHR.  Sir,  I  pray  open  this  secret  to  me. 

WORLD.  Why,  in  yonder  village  (the  village  is  named  Morality)  there  dwells 
a  erentleman  whose  name  is  Legality,  a  very  judicious  man.  and  a  man  ne  prefers 

.      &  ,  •  —        .  ,  morality       before 

of  a  very  good  name,  that  hath  skill  to  help  men  on  with  such  burdens  the  strait  gate. 
as  thine  is  from  their  shoulders ;  yea,  to  my  knowledge  he  hath  done  a  great  deal 
of  good  this  way ;  ay,  and  besides,  he  hath  skill  to  cure  those  that  are  somewhat 
crazed  in  their  wits  with  their  burdens.  To  him,  as  I  said,  thou  mayest  go,  and 
be  helped  presently.  His  house  is  not  quite  a  mile  from  this  place  ;  and  if  he  should 
not  be  at  home  himself,  he  hath  a  pretty  young  man  to  his  son,  whose  name  is 
Civility,  that  can  do  it  (to  speak  on)  as  well  as  the  old  gentleman  himself.  There,  I 
say,  thou  mayest  be  eased  of  thy  burden ;  and  if  thou  art  hot  minded  to  go  back 
to  thy  former  habitation  (as  indeed  I  would  not  wish  thee),  thou  mayest  send  for 
thy  wife  and  children  to  this  village,  where  there  are  houses  now  standing  empty, 
one  of  which  thou  mayest  have  at  a  reasonable  rate.  Provision  is  there  also  cheap 
and  good ;  and  that  which  will  make  thy  life  the  more  happy  is,  to  be  sure  there 
thou  shalt  live  by  honest  neighbors,  in  credit  and  good  fashion. 

Now  was  Christian  somewhat  at  a  stand  ;  but  presently  he  concluded,  "  If  this 
be  true  which  this  gentleman  hath  said,  my  wisest  course  is  to  take  Christian  snared 

•      ,.        j     -         „          j        -.if  4.-U    4.  -u      4.-U         r    Vt.  i  by    Mr.     Worl.lry 

his  advice  :    and  with  that  he  thus  farther  spoke  :  Wiseman's  words; 

CHR.  Sir,  which  is  my  way  to  this  honest  man's  house? 

WORLD.  Do  you  see  yonder  high  hill  ? 

CHR.  Yes,  very  well. 

WORLD.  By  that  hill  you  must  go,  and  the  first  house  you  come  at  is  his. 

So  Christian  turned  out  of  his  way  to  go  to  Mr.  Legality's  house  for  help  • 
but  behold,  when  he  was  got  now  hard  by  the  hill,  it  seemed  so  high,  Christian  afraid 
and  also  that  side  of  it  that  was  next  the  wayside  did  hang  so  much  *J**ld  }jji  on^ 
over,  that  Christian  was  afraid  to  venture  further,  lest  the  hill  should  heacL 
fall  on  his  head ;  wherefore  there  he  stood  still,  arid  wotted  not  what  to  do.  Also  his 
burden  now  seemed  heavier  to  him  than  while  he  was  in  his  way.  There  came 
also  flashes  of  fire,  Exod.  19:  16,  18,  out  of  the  hill,  that  made  Christian  afraid  that 
he  should  be  burnt:  here  therefore  he  did  sweat  and  quake  for  fear.  Heb.  12:  21. 
And  now  he  began  to  be  sorry  that  he  had  taken  Mr.  Worldly  Wiseman's  counsel ; 
,  and  with  that  he  saw  Evangelist  coming  to  meet  him,  at  the  sight  also  of  whom 
he  began  to  blush  for  shame.  So  Evangelist  drew  nearer  and  nearer ;  and  coming 
up  to  him,. he  looked  upon  him  with  a  severe  and  dreadful  countenance,  and -thus 
began  to  reason  with  Christian: 

"  What  doest  thou  here,  Christian  ?"  said  Evangelist :  at  which  words  Christian 
knew  not  what  to  answer;  wherefore  at  present  he  stood  speechless  before  him. 


son 


EVANGELISTS  GOOD  COUNSEL.  67 

KvanjrHist  rea-  Then  said  Evangelist  further,  "  Art  not  thou  the  man  that  I  found  crv- 

;ons   afresh    with    ..--*,.  •* 

Christian.  •  ing  without  the  walls  of  the  city  of  Destruction?" 

CHR.  Yes,  dear  sir,  I  am  the  man. 

EVAN.  Did  not  I  direct  thee  the  way  to  the  little  wicket-gate  ? 

CHR.  Yes,  dear  sir. 

EVAN.  How  is  it  then  that  thou  art  so  quickly  turned  aside  ?  For  thou  art  now 
out  of  the  way. 

CHR.  I  met  with  a  gentleman,  so  soon  as  I  had  got  over  the  Slough  of  Despond, 
who  persuaded  me  that  I  might,  in  the  village  before  me,  find  a  man  that  could  take 
off  my  burden. 

EVAN.  What  was  he  ? 

CHR.  He  looked  like  a  gentleman,  and  talked  much  to  me,  and  got  me  at  last  to 
yield  :  so  I  came  hither.  But  when  I  beheld  this  hill,  and  how  it  hangs  over  the  way, 
I  suddenly  made  a  stand,  lest  it  should  fall  on  my  head. 

EVAN.  What  said  that  gentleman  to  you  ? 

CHR.  Why,  he  asked  me  whither  I  was  going ;  and  I  told  him. 

EVAN.  And  what  said  he  then  ? 

CHR.  He  asked  me  if  I  had  a  family ;  and  I  told  him.  But,  said  I,  I  am  so  laden 
with  the  burden  that  is  on  my  back  that  I  cannot  take  pleasure  in  them  as  formerly. 

EVAN.  And  what  said  he  then  ? 

CHR.  He  bid  me  with  speed  get  rid  of  my  burden ;  and  I  told  him  it  was  ease  that 
I  sought.  And,  said  I,  I  am  therefore  going  to  yonder  gate  to  receive  further  direc- 
tion how  I  may  get  to  the  place  of  deliverance.  So  he  said  that  he  would  show  me  a 
better  way,  and  short,  not  so  attended  with  difficulties  as  the  way,  sir,  that  you  set  me 
in ;  which  way,  said  he,  will  direct  you  to  a  gentleman's  house  that  hath  skill  to  take 
off  these  burdens.  So  I  believed  him,  and  turned  out  of  that  way  into  this,  if  haply  I 
might  be  soon  eased  of  my  burden.  But  when  I  came  to  this  place  and  beheld  things 
as  they  are,  I  stopped  for  fear,  as  I  said,  of  danger :  but  I  now  know  not  what  to  do. 

Then  said  Evangelist,  "  Stand  still  a  little,  that  I  may  show  thee  the  words  of 
God."  So  he  stood  trembling.  Then  said  Evangelist,  "  See  that  ye  refuse  not  Him 
Evangelist,  con-  that  speaketh ;  for  if  they  escaped  not  who  refused  him  that  spake  on  ' 

vinces  him  of  his  . 

error.  earth,  much  more  shall  not  we  escape  if  we  turn  away  from  Him  that 

speaketh  from  heaven."  Heb.  12  :  25.  He  said,  moreover,  "  Now  the  just  shall  live  by 
faith  ;  but  if  any  man  draw  back,  my  soul  shall  have  no  pleasure  in  him."  Heb.  10: 38. 
He  also  did  thus  apply  them :  "  Thou  art  the  man  that  art  running  into  this  misery ; 
thou  hast  begun  to  reject  the  counsel  of  the  Most  High,  and  to  draw  back  thy  foot 
from  the  way  of  peace,  even  almost  to  the  hazarding  of  thy  perdition." 

Then  Christian  fell  down  at  his  feet  as  dead,  crying,  "  Woe  is  me,  for  I  am  un- 
done !"     At  the  sight  of  which  Evangelist  caught  him  by  the  right  hand,  saying,  "  All 
manner  of  sin  and  blasphemies  shall  be  forgiven  unto  men."     Matt.  12:31.     "Be  not  * 
faithless,  but  believing."     John  20 :  27.     Then  did  Christian  again  a  little  revive,  and 
stood  up  trembling,  as  at  first,  before  Evangelist. 

Then  Evangelist  proceeded,  saying,  "  Give  more  earnest  heed  to  the  things  that  I    . 

. '      • 


68  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

shall  tell  thee  of.     I  will  now  show  thee  who  it  was  that  deluded  thee,  and  who  it  was 
also  to  whom  he  sent  thee.     The  man  that  met  thee  is  one  Worldly  Wiseman,  and 

rightly  is  he  so  called ;  partly  because  he  savoreth  only  the  doctrine  of         Mr.  worimy 

".  /•      *•        1  •        Wiseman  described 

this  world,  i  John  4 :  5  (therefore  he  always  goes  to  the  town  of  Morality  by  Evangelist. 
to  church),  and  partly  because  he  loveth  that  doctrine  best,  for  it  saveth  him  best  from 
the  cross,  Gal.  6:12:  and  because  he  is  of  this  carnal  temper,  therefore  he  seeketh  to 
£  pervert  my  ways,  though  right.     Now  there  are  three  things  in  this  man's  counsel 
that  thou  must  utterly  abhor. 

"  i .  His  turning  thee  out  of  the  way. 

"2.  His  laboring  to  render  the  cross  odious  to  thee. 

"  3.  And  his  setting  thy  feet  in  that  way  that  leadeth  unto  the  administration  of 
death. 

"  First,  thou  must  abhor  his  turning  thee  out  of  the  way ;  yea,  and  thine  own 
consenting  thereto ,  because  this  is  to  reject  the  counsel  of  God  for  the  sake  of  the 
counsel  of  a  Worldly  Wiseman.  The  Lord  says,  '  Strive  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate,' 
Luke  1 3  :  24,  the  gate  to  which  I  send  thee ;  '  for  strait  is  the  gate  that  leadeth  unto 
life,  and  few  there  be  that  find  it.'  Matt.  7:13,  14.  From  this  little  wicket-gate,  and 
from  the  way  thereto,  hath  this  wicked  man  turned  thee,  to  the  bringing  of  thee 
almost  to  destruction :  hate,  therefore,  his  turning  thee  out  of  the  way,  and  abhor  thy- 
self for  hearkening  to  him. 

"  Secondly,  thou  must  abhor  his  laboring  to  render  the  cross  odious_unto  the_e  ;  for 
/thou  art  to  prefer  it  before  the  treasures  of  Egypt.  Heb.  11  125,  26.  Besides,  the 
King  of  glory  hath  told  thee  that  he  tfrat-will-save  bia  life  shalLlose-it.  And  he  that 
comes  after  Him,  and  hates  not  his  father  and  mother  and  wife  and  children  and 
brethren  and  sisters,  yea,  and  his  own  life  also,  he  cannot  be  his  disciple.  Mark  8 : 38 ; 
John  12:25;  Matt.  10:39;  Luke  14:26.  I  say,  therefore,  for  man  to  labor  to  persuade 
thee  that  that  shall  be  thy  death  without  which,  the  truth  hath  said,  thou  canst  not 
have  eternal  life,  this  doctrine  thou  must  abhor. 

"  Thirdly,  thou  must  hate  his  setting  of  thy  feet  in  the  way  that  leadeth  to  the 
.    ministration  of  death.     And  for  this  thou  must  consider  to  whom  he  sent  thee,  and 
also  how  unable  that  person  was  to  deliver  thee  from  thy  burden. 

"  He  to  whom  thou  wast  sent  for  ease,  being  by  name  Legality,  is  the  son  of  the 
bond-woman  which  now  is,  and  is  in  bondage  with  her  children,  Gal.  4:21-27,  and  is, 
in  a  mystery,  this  Mt.  Sinai  which  thou  hast  feared  will  fall  on  thy  head.  Now,  if 
she  with  her  children  are  in  bondage,  how  canst  thou  expect  by  them  to  be  made 
free  ?  This  Legality,  therefore,  is  not  able  to  set  thee  free  from  thy  burden.  No  man 
was  as  yet  ever  rid  of  his  burden  by  him ;  no,  nor  ever  is  like  to  be.  Ye  cannot  be 
,  justified  by  the  works  of  the  law ;  for  by  the  deeds  of  the  law  no  man  living  can  be 
rid  of  his  burden.  Therefore  Mr.  Worldly  Wiseman  is  an  alien  and  Mr.  Legality  is  a 
cheat;  and  for  his  son  Civility,  notwithstanding  his  simpering  looks,  he  is  but  a  hypo- 
crite, and  cannot  help  thee.  Believe  me,  there  is  nothing  in  all  this  noise  that  thou 
hast  heard  of  these  sottish  men  but  a  design  to  beguile  thee  of  thy  salvation  by  turn- 
ing thee  from  the  way  in  which  I  had  set  thee."  After  this  Evangelist  called  aloud  to 


THE  WA  Y  OF  RETURN.  69 

the  heavens  for  confirmation  of  what  he  had  said ;  and  with  that  there  came  words 
and  fire  out  of  the  mountain  under  which  poor  Christian  stood,  which  made  the  hair  of 
his  flesh  stand  up.  The.  words  were  thus  pronounced :  "  As  many  as  are  of  the  works 
of  the  law  are  under  the  curse ;  for  it  is  written,  Cursed  is  every  one  that  continueth 
not  in  all  things  which  are  written  in  the  book  of  the  law  to  do  them."  Gal.  3 : 10. 

Now  Christian  looked  for  nothing  but  death,  and  began  to  cry  out  lamentably ; 
even  cursing  the  time  in  which  he  met  with  Mr.  Worldly  Wiseman ;  still  calling  him- 
self a  thousand  fools  for  hearkening  to  his  counsel.  He  also  was  greatly  ashamed  to 
think  that  this  gentleman's  arguments,  flowing  only  from  the  flesh,  should  have  the- 
prevalency  with  him  so  far  as  to  cause  him  to  forsake  the  right  way.  This  done,  he 
applied  himself  again  to  Evangelist  in  words  and  sense  as  follows : 

CHR.  Sir,  what  think  you?      Is  there  any  hope?      May  I  now  go  back,  and  go  up 
Christian  in-  to  the  wicket-gate  ?     Shall  I  not  be  abandoned  for  this,  and  sent  back 

quires  if  he  may  °  . 

yet  be  happy.  from  thence  ashamed  ?  I  am  sorry  I  have  hearkened  to  this  man  s  coun- 
sel ;  but  may  my  sin  be  forgiven  ? 

Then  said  Evangelist  to  him,  "Thy  sin  is  very  great,  for  by  it  thou  hast  com- 
mitted two  evils ;  thou  hast  forsaken  the  way  that  is  good,  to  tread  in  forbidden  paths. 
Yet  will  the  man  at  the  gate  receive  thee,  for  he  has  good-will  for  men:  only,"  said 
he,  "  take  heed  that  thou  turn  not  aside  again,  lest  thou  '  perish  from  the  way,  when, 
his  wrath  is  kindled  but  a  little.'  "  Psa.  2:12. 


70 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


THE  SECOND  STAGE. 

THEN  did  Christian  address  himself  to  go  back ;  and  Evangelist,  after  he  had 
kissed  him,  gave  him  one  smile  and  bid  him  God  speed :  so  he  went  on  with  haste, 
neither  spoke  he  to  any  man  by  the  way ;  nor  if  any  man  asked  him,  would  he  vouch- 
safe them  an  answer.  He  went  like  one  that  was  all  the  while  treading  on  forbidden 
ground,  and  could  by  no  means  think  himself  safe  till  again  he  was  got  into  the  way 
which  he  had  left  to  follow  Mr.  Worldly  Wiseman's  counsel.  So,  in  process  of  time, 
Christian  got  up  to  the  gate.  Now,  over  the  gate  there  was  written,  "  Knock,  and  it 
shall  be  opened  unto  you."  Matt.  7 : 7. 

He  knocked,  therefore,  more  than  once  or  twice,  saying, 

"May  I  now  enter  here?    Will  he  within 
Open  to  sorry  me,  though  I  have  been 
An  undeserving  rebel  ?    Then  shall  I 
Not  fail  to  sing  his  lasting  praise  on  high." 

At  last  there  came  a  grave  person  to  the 
gate,  named  Goodwill,  who  asked  who  was 
there,  and  whence  he  came,  and  what  he 
would  have. 

CHR.  Here  is  a  poor  burdened  sinner. 
I  come  from  the  city  of  Destruction,  but 
am  going  to  Mt.  Zion,  that  I  may  be  de- 
livered from  the  wrath  to  come.  I  would 
therefore,  sir,  since  I  am  informed  that  by 
this  gate  is  the  way  thither,  know  if  you 
are  willing  to  let  me  in. 

"  I   am   willing    with   all       The  ffate  wjn 
my    heart,"    said    Goodwill;  g'^g^  bj°: 
and  with  that  he  opened  the  ners- 
gate. 

So,  when  Christian  was  stepping  in, 
the  other  gave  him    a  pull.      Then  said 
Christian,  "  What  means  that?"   The  other,/ 
told  him,  "  A  little  distance  from  this  gate 
there  is  erected  a  strong  castle,  of  which 
Beelzebub    is   the   captain:    from   thence 
both  he  and  they  that  are  with  him  shoot  , 
arrows  at  those  that  come  up  to  this  gate, 
if  haply  they   may   die   before   they  can 

enter  in."    Then  said  Christian,  "  I  rejoice  and  tremble."     So  when  he  was  got  in,  the 
man  of  the  gate  asked  him  who  directed  him  thither. 


'THERE  CAME  A  GRAVE  PERSON  TO  THE  GATE,  NAMED 
GOODWILL." 


WITHIN  THE  GA  TE. 


Talk  between          CHR.  Evangelist  bid  me 

Goodwill          and  .  T 

Christian.  come  hither  and  knock,  as  I 

did :   and  he  said  that  you,  sir,  would  tell 
me  what  I  must  do. 

GOOD.  An  open  door  is  set  before 
thee  and  no  man  can  shut  it. 

CHR.  Now  I  begin\o  reap  the  benefit 
of  my  hazards. 

GOOD.  But  how  is  it  that  you  came 
alone  ? 

CHR.  Because  none  of  my  neighbors 
saw  their  danger  as  I  saw  mine. 

GOOD.  Did  any  of  them  know  of  your 
coming  ? 

CHR.  Yes,  my  wife  and  children  saw 
me  at  the  first,  and  called  after  me  to 
turn  again:  also,  some  of  my  neighbors 
stood  crying  and  calling  after  me  to  re- 
turn ;  but  I  put  my  fingers  in  my  ears  and 
so  came  on  my  way. 


'THEY  THAT  ARE  WITH  HIM  SHOOT  ARROWS." 


"  THK   OTHER    GAVE   HIM   A   PULL." 

GOOD.  But  did  none  of  them  follow 
you  to  persuade  you  to  go  back  ? 

CHR.  Yes,  both  Obstinate  and  Plia- 
ble; but  when  they  saw  that  they  could 
not  prevail,  Obstinate  went  railing  back, 
but  Pliable  came  with  me  a  little  way. 

GOOD.  But  why  did  he  not  come 
through  ? 

CHR.  We  indeed  came  both  together 
until  we  came  to  the  Slough  of  Despond, 
into  the  which  we  also  slid- 
denly  fell.  And  then  was  my  *™ 
neighbor  Pliable  discouraged,  «« 
and  would  not  venture  fur- 
ther.  Wherefore,  getting  out  again  on  the 
side  next  to  his  own  house,  he  told  me  I 
should  possess  the  brave  country  alone  for 
him:  so  he  went  his  way  and  I  came 
mine  —  he  after  Obstinate  and  I  to  this 
gate. 


A  man  may 
. 


alone- 


72  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

Then  said  Goodwill,  "Alas,  poor  man;  is  the  celestial  glory  of  so  little  esteem 
with  him  that  he  counteth  it  not  worth  running  the  hazard  of  a  few  difficulties  to  ob- 
tain it?" 

"  Truly,"  said  Christian,  "  I  have  said  the  truth  of  Pliable  ;  and  if  I  should  also  say 
all  the  truth  of  myself,  it  will  appear  there  is  no  betterment  betwixt  him        Christian  ac- 
and  myself.     It  is  true  he  went  back  to  his  own  house,  but  I  also  turned  foreetlthelnman  l'at 
aside  to  go  into  the  way  of  death,  being  persuaded  thereto  by  the  carnal  the  gate- 
argument  of  one  Mr.  Worldly  Wiseman." 

GOOD.  Oh,  did  he  light  upon  you  ?  What,  he  would  have  had  you  seek  for  ease 
at  the  hands  of  Mr.  Legality  !  They  are  both  of  them  a  very  cheat.  But  did  you  take 
his  counsel  ? 

CHR.  Yes,  as  far  as  I  durst.  I  went  to  find  out  Mr.  Legality,  until  I  thought  that 
the  mountain  that  stands  by  his  house  would  have  fallen  upon  my  head  ;  wherefore 
there  was  I  forced  to  stop. 

GOOD.  That  mountain  has  been  the  death  of  many,  and  will  be^he  death  of  many 
more.  It  is  well  you  escaped  being  by  it  dashed  in  pieces. 

CHR.  Why,  truly  I  do  not  know  what  had  become  of  me  there,  had  not  Evangelist 
happily  met  me  again  as  I  was  musing  in  the  midst  of  my  durnps  ;  but  it  was  God's 
mercy  that  he  came  to  me  again,  for  else  I  had  never  come  hither.  But  now  I  am 
come,  such  a  one  as  I  am,  more  fit  indeed  for  death  by  that  mountain  than  thus  to 
stand  talking  with  my  Lord.  But  oh,  what  a  favor  is  this  to  me  that  yet  I  am  ad- 
mitted entrance  here  ! 

GOOD.  We  make  no  objections  against  any,  notwithstanding  all  that  they  have 
done  before  they  come  hither;  they  in  no  wise  are  cast  out.     John  6:37.       Christian  com- 
/And  therefore,  good  Christian,  come  a  little  way  with  me,  and  I  will  [urec'tedyetonTs 
'  teach  thee  about  the  way  thou  must  go.     Look  before  thee  ;  dost  thou  see  way- 
this  narrow  way  ?    That  is  the  way  thou  must  go.     It  was  cast  up  by  the  patriarchs, 
prophets,  Christ,  and  his  apostles,  and  it  is  as  straight  as  a  rule  can  make  it  ;  this  is  the 
way  thou  must  go. 

"  But,"  said  Christian,  "  are  there  no  turnings  nor  windings  by  which  a  stranger 
may  lose  his  way  ?" 

GOOD.  Yes,  there  are  many  ways  but  down  upon  this,  and  they  are  crooked  and 
wide  :  but  thus  thou  mayest  distinguish  the  right  from  the  wrong,  the  right  only  be- 
ing straight  and  narrow.  Matt.  7:14. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  Christian  asked  him  further  if  he  could  not  help 
him  off  with  his  burden  that  was  upon  his  back.  For  as  yet  he  had  not  got  rid 
thereof  ;  nor  could  he  by  any  means  get  it  off  without  help. 

He  told  him,  "  As  to  thy  burden,  be  content  to  bear  it  until  thou 

*  There  is  no  de- 

comest  to  the  place  of  deliverance  ;   for  there  it  will  fall  from  thy  back 


nf   itc^l-f^"  of  sin  but  hy  the 

1Lt>e11-  death    and   blood 

Then  Christian  began  to  gird  up  his  loins  and  to  address  himself  to  of  Clmst- 
his  journey.     So  the  other  told  him  that  by  that  he  was  gone  some  distance  from  the 
gate,  he  would  come  to  the  house  of  the  Interpreter,  at  whose  door  he  should  knock, 


IN  THE  INTERPRETER'S  HOUSE.  73 

and  he  would  show  him  excellent  things.    Then  Christian  took  his  leave  of  his  friend, 
and  he  again  bid  him  God  speed. 

Christian  comes          Then  he  went  on  till  he  came  at  the  house  of  the  Interpreter,  where  u/ 
interepre<tereofttul  ne  knocked  over  and  over.     At  last  one  came  to  the  door  and  asked  who 

Hoiy  spirit.'        '  was  there. 

CHR.  Sir,  here  is  a  traveller,  who  was  bid  by  an  acquaintance  of  the  good  man  of 
this  house  to  call  here  for  my  profit.  I  would  therefore  speak  with  the  master  of  the 
house. 

So  he  called  for  the  master  of  the  house,  who,  after  a  little  time,  came  to  Chris, 
tian  and  asked  him  what  he  would  have. 

"  Sir,"  said  Christian,  "  I  am  a  man  that  am  come  from  the  city  of  Destruction, 
and  am  .going  to  the  mount  Zionj-and  I  was  told  by  the  man  that  stands  at  the  gate 
at  the  head  of  this  way  tKafTf  I  called  here  you  would  show  me  excellent  things,  such 
as  would  be  helpful  to  me  on  my  journey." 

Then  said  the  Interpreter,  "  Come  in ;  I  will  show  thee  that  which  will  be  profit- 
able to  thee."  So  he  commanded  his  man  to  light  the  candle,  and  bid  Christian  follow 
him.  vSo  he  had  him  into  a  private  room,  and  bid  his  man  open  a  door ;  the  which 

Christian  sees  wnen  he  had  done,  Christian  saw  the  rjicture_of  a  very  grave  person  hang  /  / 
a  i.rave  picture.      up  agajnst  the  wall ;   and  this  was  the  fashion  of  it :   it  had  eyes  lifted  up 
to  heaven,  the  best  of  books  in  its  hand,  the  law  of  truth  was  written  upon  its  lips,  the 
world  was  behind  its  back ;  it  stood  as  if  it  pleaded  with  men,  and  a  crown  of  gold  did  ^ 
hang  over  its  head. 

Then  said  Christian,  "  What  means  this?" 

INTER.  The  man  whose  picture  this  is  is  one  of  a  thousand:  he  can  beget  chil- 
dren, i  Cor.  4:15,  travail  in  birth  with  children,  Gal.  4: 19,  and  nurse  them  himself 
when  they  are  born.  And  whereas  thou  seest  him  with  his  eyes  lift  up  to  heaven,  the 
best  of  books  in  his  hand,  and  the  law  of  truth  writ  on  his  lips,  it  is  to  show  thee  that 
his  work  is  to  know  and  unfold  dark  things  to  sinners ;  even  as  also  thou  seest  him 
stand  as  if  he  pleaded  with  men.  And  whereas  thou  seest  the  world  as  cast  behind 
him,  and  that  a  crown  hangs  over  his  head,  that  is  to  show  thee  that  slighting  and 
despising  the  things  that  are  present,  for  the  love  that  he  hath  to  his  Master's  service, 
why  he  showed  he  is  sure  in  the  world  that  comes  next  to  have  glory  for  his  reward. 

him    this   picture  ,,.,...,., 

flrst,  Now,  said  the  Interpreter,  I  have  showed  thee  this  picture  first,  because 

the  man  whose  picture  this  is  is  the  only  man  whom  the  Lord  of  the  place  whither  -, 
thou  art  going  hath  authorized  to  be  thy  guide  in  all  difficult  places  thou  mayest  meet  J 
with  in  the  way :  wherefore  take  good  heed  to  what  I  have  showed  thee,  and  bear 
well  in  thy  mind  what  thou  hast  seen,  lest  in  thy  journey  thou  meet  with  some  that 
pretend  to  lead  thee  right,  but  their  way  goes  down  to  deattu 

Then  he  took  him  by  the  hand  and  led  him  into  a  very  large  parley  that  was  full     i^ 
of  dust,  because  never  swept ;  the  which  after  he  reviewed  it  a  little  while,  the  Inter- 
preter called  for  a  man  to  sweep.     Now  when  he  began  to  sweep  the  dust  began  so 
abundantly  to  fly  about^-that  Christian  had  almost  therewith  been  choked.      Then 
said  the  Interpreter  to  a  damsel  that  stood  by,  "  Bring  hither  water  and  sprinkle 


10 


74  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

the    room;"    the  which    when    she    had    done,   it    was    swept    and    cleansed    with 
pleasure. 

Then  said  Christian,  "  What  means  this  ?" 

The  Interpreter  answered,  "  This  parlor  is  the  heart  of  a  man  that  was  never  sanc- 
tified by  the  sweet  grace  of  the  gospel.  The  dust  is  his  original  sin,  and  inward  cor- 
ruptions, that  have  denied  the  whole  man.  He  that  began  to  sweep  at  first  is  the 
_^Law  ;  but  she  that  brought  water  and  did  sprinkle  it  is  the  Gospel.  Now,  whereas 
thou  sawest  that  so  soon  as  the  first  began  to  sweep,  the  dust  did  so  fly  about  that  the 
room  by  him  could  not  be  cleansed,  but  that  thou  wast  almost  choked  therewith,  this 
is  to  show  thee  that  the  law,  instead  of  cleansing  the  heart  (by  its  working)  from  sin, 
doth  revive,  Rom.  7:9,  put  strength  into,  i  Cor.  15:56,  and  increase  it  in  the  soul, 
Rom.  5  :  20,  even  as  it  doth  discover  and  forbid  it  ;  for  it  doth  not  give  power  to  sub- 
due. Again,  as  thou  sawest  the  damsel  sprinkle  the  room  with  water,  upon  which  it 
was  cleansed  with  pleasure,  this  is  to  show  thee  that  when  the  gospel  comes  in  the 
sweet  and  precious  influences  thereof  to  the  heart,  then,  I  say,  even  as  thou  sawest  the 
damsel  lay  the  dust  by  sprinkling  the  floor  with  water,  so  is  sin  vanquished  and.  sub- 
dued, and  the  soul  made  clean,  through  the  faith  of  it,  and  consequently  fit  for  the 
King  of  glory  to  inhabit."  John  15  13;  Eph.  5:26;  Acts  15  19;  Rom.  16:25,  26. 

~~i-  saw  moreover  in  my  dream  that  the  Interpreter  took  him  by  the  hand  and  had 
him  into  a  little  room  where  sat  two  little  children,  each  one  in  his  chair.  He  showed  mm 
The  name  of  the  eldest  was  Passion,  and  the  name  of  the  other  Patience, 


Passion  seemed  to  be  much  discontented,  but  Patience  was  very  quiet.  Then  Chris- 
tian asked,  "What  is  the  reason  of  the  discontent  of  Passion?"  The  Interpreter  an- 
swered, "  The  governor  of  them  would  have  him  stay  for  his  best  things  till  the  be- 
ginning of  the  next  year,  but  he  will  have  all  now  ;  but  Patience  is  willing  to  wait." 

Then  I  saw  that  one  came  to  Passion,  and  brought  him  a  bag  of  treasure,  and 
poured  it  down  at  his  feet;   the  which  he  took  up  and  rejoiced  therein, 
and  withal  laughed  Patience  to  scorn.     But  I  beheld  but  a  little  while, 
and  he  had  lavished  all  away  and  had  nothing  left  him  but  rags.  away< 

Then  said  Christian  to  the  Interpreter,  "  Expound  this  matter  more  fully  to  me." 

So  the  Interpreter  said,  "  These  two  lads  are  figures  :  Passion  of  the  men  of  this 
world,  and  Patience  of  the  men  of  that  which  is  to  come  ;  for,  as  here  thou  seest,  Pas- 
sion will  have  all  now,  this  year,  that  is  to  say,  in  this  world.  So  are  the  men  of  this 
world:  they  must  have  all  their  good  things  now;  they  cannot  stay  till  the  next  year, 
that  is,  until  the  next  world,  for  their  portion  of  good.  That  proverb,  '  A  bird  in  the 
hand  is  worth  two  in  the  bush,'  is  of  more  authority  with  them  than  are  all  the  divine 
testimonies  of  the  good  of  the  world  to  come.  But  as  thou  sawest  that  he  had  quickly 
lavished  all  away,  and  had  presently  left  him  nothing  but  rags,  so  will  it  be  with  all 
such  men  at  the  end  of  this  world." 

Then  said  Christian,  "Now  I  see  that  Patience  has   the  best  wisdom,     Patience  had  the 
r  and  that  upon  many  accounts,     i.  Because  he  stays  for  the  1,est  things.  best  wisdom- 
2.  And  also  because  he  will  have  the  glory  of  his  when  Ihe  other  has  nothing  but 
rags." 


IN  THE  INTERPRETER'S  HOUSE.  75 

INTER.  Nay,  you  may  add  another,  to  wit,  the  glory  of  the  next  world  will  never  / 
wear  out;   but  these  are  suddenly  gone.     Therefore  Passion  had  not  so  much  reason 
Things  tiiat  are  to  laugh  at  Patience  because  he  had  his  good  thing's  first    as  Patience 

Orst     must     give 

place;  but  things  will  have  to  laugh  at  Passion  because  he  had  his  best  things  last-   for 

i lint  (ire   hi  M    {ire  *^ 

first  must  give  place  to  last,  because  last  must  have  his  time  to  come :  but 
last  gives  place  to  nothing,  for  there  is  not  another  to  succeed.  He,  therefore,  that 
hath  his  portion  first  must  needs  have  a  time  to  spend  it ;  but  he  that  hath  his  portion 
last  must  have  it  lastingly :  therefore  it  is  said  of  Dives,  "  In  thy  lifetime  thou 
receivedst  thy  good  things,  aricl  likewise  Lazarus  evil  things ;  but  now  he  is  comforted, 
and  thou  art  tormented."  Luke  16:25. 

CHR.  Then  I  perceive  it  is  not  best  to  covet  things  that  are  now,  but  to  wait  for 
things  to  come. 

INTER.  You  say  truth ;  for  the  things  that  are  seen  are  temporal,  but  the  things 
that  are  not  seen  are  eternal.  2  Cor.  4: 18.  But  though  this  be  so,  yet,  since  things 
present  and  our  fleshly  appetite  are  such  near  neighbors  one  to  another ;  and  again, 
because  things  to  come  and  carnal  sense  are  such  strangers  one  to  another ;  therefore 
it  is  that  the  first  of  these  so  suddenly  fall  into  amity,  and  that  distance  is  so  con- 
tinued between  the  second. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  the  Interpreter  took  Christian  by  the  hand  and  led 
him  into  a  place  where  was  a  fire  burning  against  a  wall,  and  one  standing  by  it, 
always  casting  niuch  water  upon  it  to  quench  it ;  yet  did  the  fire  burn  higher  and 
hotter. 

Then  said  Christian,  "  What  means  this  ?" 

The  fire  of  di-  The  Interpreter  answered,  "  This  fire  is  the  work  of  grace  that  is 
wrought  in  the  heart.  He  that  casts  water  upon  it,  to  extinguish  and 
put  it  out,  is  the  devil;  but  in  that  thou  seest  the  fire  notwithstanding  burn  higher 
and  hotter,  thou  shalt  also  see  the  reason  of  that."  So  he  had  him  about  to  the  back 
side  of  the  wall,  where  he  saw  a  man  with  a  vessel  of  oil  in  his  hand,  of  the  which  he'" 
did  also  continually  cast  (but  secretly)  into  the  fire. 

Then  said  Christian,  "  What  means  this  ?" 

The  Interpreter  answered,  "  This  is  Christ,  who  continually,  with  the  oil  of  his 
grace,  maintains  the  work  already  begun  in  the  heart ;  by  the  means  of  which,  not- 
withstanding what  the  devil  can  do,  the  souls  of  his  people  prove  gracious  still.  2  Cor. 
12:9.  And  in  that  thou  sawest  that  the  man  stood  behind  the  wall  to  maintain  the 
fire,  this  is  to  teach  thee  that  it  is  hard  for  the  tempted  to  see  how  this  work  of  grace 
is  maintained  in  the  soul." 

I  saw  also  that  the  Interpreter  took  him  again  by  the  hand  and  led  him  into  a 
pleasant  place,  where  was  built  a  stately  palace,  beautiful  to  behold;  at  the  sight  " 
of  which  Christian  was  greatly  delighted.     He  saw  also  upon  the  top  thereof  certain 
persons  walking,  who  were  clothed  all  in  gold. 

Then  said  Christian,  "  May  we  go  in  thither  ?" 

Then  the  Interpreter  took  him  and  led  him  up  towards  the  door  of  the  palace ; 
and  behold,  at  the  door  stood  a  great  company  of  men,  as  desirous  to  go  in,  but  durst 


76  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

not.  There  also  sat  a  man  at  a  little  distance  from  the  door,  at  a  table-side,  with  a 
book  and  his  inkhorn  before  him,  to  take  the  names  of  them  that  should  enter  therein ; 
he  saw  also  that  in  the  doorway  stood  many  men  in  armor  to  keep  it,  being  resolved 
to  do  to  the  men  that  would  enter  what  hurt  and  mischief  they  could.  Now  was 
Christian  somewhat  in  amaze.  At  last,  when  every  man  started  back  for  fear  of  the 
armed  men,  Christian  saw  a  man  of  a  very  stout  countenance  come  up  to  the  man  that 
sat  there  to  write,  saying,  "Set  down  my  name,  sir;"  the  which  when  he  Tlie  valiant 
had  done,  he  saw  the  man  draw  his  sword  and  put  a  helmet  on  his  head  nnaiL 
and  rush  towards  the  door  upon  the  armed  men,  who  laid  upon  him  with  deadly  force ; 
but  the  man,  not  at  all  discouraged,  fell  to  cutting  and  hacking  most  fiercely.  So  after 
he  had  received  and  given  many  wounds  to  those  that  attempted  to  keep  him  out, 
Matt,  ii :  12;  Acts  14:22,  he  cut  his  way  through  them  all  and  pressed  forward  into 
the  palace ;  at  which  there  was  a  pleasant  voice  heard  from  those  that  were  within, 
even  of  those  that  walked  upon  the  top  of  the  palace,  saying, 

"Come  in,  come  in  ! 
Eternal  glory  thou  shalt  win  !" 

So  in  he  went  and  was  clothed  with  such  garments  as  they.     Then  Christian  smiled, 
and  said,  "  I  think  verily  I  know  the  meaning  of  this. 

"  Now,"  said  Christian,  "  let  me  go  hence." 

"  Nay,  stay,"  said  the  Interpreter,  "  till  I  have  showed  thee  a  little  more,  and  after 
that  thou  shalt  go  on  thy  way."  So  he  took  him  by  the  hand  again  and  Despair  like  aa 
led  him  into  a  very  dark_iQoja,  where  there  sat  a  man  in  an  iron  cage. 

Now  the  man,  to  look  on,  seemed  very  sad ;  he  sat  with  his  eyes  looking  down  to 
the  ground,  his  hands  folded  together,  and  he  sighed  as  if  he  would  break  his  heart. 
Then  Christian  said,  "What  means  this?"  At  which  the  Interpreter  bid  him  talk 
with  the  man. 

Then  said  Christian  to  the  man,  "  What  art  thou?" 
-I  The  man  answered,  "  I  am  what  I  was  not  once." 

CHR.  What  wast  thou  once  ? 

The  man  said,  "I  was  once  a  fair  and  flourishing  professor,  Luke  8:13,  both  in 
mine  own  eyes  and  also  in  the  eyes  of  others.  I  once  was,  as  I  thought,  fair  for  the 
celestial  city,  and  had  then  even  joy  at  the  thoughts  that  I  should  get  thither." 

CHR.  Well,  but  what  art  thou  now  ? 

MAN.  I  am  now  a  man  of  despair,  and  am  shut  up  in  it,  as  in  this  iron  cage.     I 
'    cannot  get  out ;   oh,  now  I  cannot ! 

CHR.  But  how  earnest  thou  into  this  condition  ? 

MAN.  I  left  off  to  watch  and  be  sober.  I  laid  the  reins  upon  the  neck  of  my  lusts ; 
I  sinned  against  the  light  of  the  Word  and  the  goodness  of  God  ;  I  have  grieved  the 
Spirit,  and  he  is  gone  ;  I  tempted  the  devil,  and  he  is  come  to  me ;  I  have  provoked 
God  to  anger,  and  he  has  left  me ;  I  have  so  hardened  my  heart  that  I  cannot  repent. 

Then  said  Christian  to  the  Interpreter,  "  But  is  there  no  hope  for  such  a  man  as 
this?" 


"THERE  SAT  A  MAN  IN  AN  IRON  CAGE." 


78  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

"  Ask  him,"  said  the  Interpreter. 

Then  said  Christian,  "  Is  there  no  hope,  but  you  must  be  kept  in  the  iron  cage  of 
despair?" 

MAN.  No,  none  at  all. 

CHR.  Why,  the  Son  of  the  Blessed  is  very  pitiful. 

MAN.  I  have  crucified  him  to  myself  afresh,  Heb.  6:6;  I  have  despised  his  per- 
son, Luke  19:14;  I  have  despised  his  righteousness;  I  have  counted  his  blood  an 
unholy  thing;  I  have  done  despite  to  the  Spirit  of  grace,  Heb.  10:29;  therefore  I 
have  shut  myself  out  of  all  the  promises,  and  there  now  remains  to  me  nothing  but 
threatenings,  dreadful  threatenings,  faithful  threatenings,  of  certain  judgment  and 
fiery  indignation,  which  shall  devour  me  as  an  adversary. 

CIIR.  For  what  did  you  bring  yourself  into  this  condition? 

MAN.  For  the  lusts,  pleasures,  and  profits  of  this  world,  in  the  enjoyment  of 
which  I  did  then  promise  myself  much  delight ;  but  now  every  one  of  those  things 
also  bite  me,  and  gnaw  me  like  a  burning  worm. 

CIIR.  But  canst  thou  not  now  repent  and  turn  ? 

MAN.  God  hath  denied  me  repentance.    His  Word  gives  me  no  encouragement  to 
"*  believe  ;   yea,  himself  hath  shut  me  up  in  this  iron  cage ;   nor  can  all  the  men  in  the 
world  let  me  out.     Oh,  eternity,  eternity  !  how  shall  I  grapple  with  the  misery  that  I 
must  meet  with  in  eternity  ? 

Then  said  the  Interpreter  to  Christian,  "  Let  this  man's  misery  be  remembered  by 
thee,  and  be  an  everlasting  caution  to  thee." 

"  Well,"  said  Christian,  "  this  is  fearful !  God  help  me  to  watch  and  to  be  sober, 
and  to  pray  that  I  may  shun  the  cause  of  this  man's  misery.  Sir,  is  it  not  time  for  me 
to  go  on  my  way  now  ?" 

INTER.  Tarry  till  I  show  thee  one  thing  more,  and  then  thou  shalt  go  on  thy 
way. 

So  he  took  Christian  by  the  hand  again,  and  led  him  into  a  chamber  where  there 
"  was  one  rising  out  of  bed ;  and  as  he  put  on  his  raiment,  he  shook  and  trembled. 

Then  said  Christian,  "  Why  doth  this  man  tremble  ?" 

The  Interpreter  then  bid  him  tell  to  Christian  the  reason  of  his  so  doing. 

So  he  began,  and  said,  "  This  night  as  I  was  in  my  sleep,  I  dreamed,  and  behold, 
the  heavens  grew  exceeding  black ;  also  it  thundered  and  lightened  in  Vision  of  the 
most  fearful  wise,  that  it  put  me  into  an  agony.  So  I  looked  up  in  my  d*y  of  Judgment, 
dream  and  saw  the  clouds  rack  at  an  unusual  rate ;  upon  which  I  heard  a  great  sound 
of  a  trumpet,  and  saw  also  a  man  sitting  upon  a  cloud,  attended  with  the  thousands  of 
heaven :  they  were  all  in  flaming  fire ;  also  the  heavens  were  in  a  burning  flame, 
heard  then  a  voice,  saying,  '  Arise,  ye  dead,  and  come  to  judgment.'  And  with  that 
the  rocks  rent,  the  graves  opened,  and  the  dead  that  were  therein  came  forth.  Some 
of  them  were  exceedingly  glad,  and  looked  upward ;  and  some  sought  to  hide  them- 
selves under  the  mountains.  Then  I  saw  the  man  that  sat  upon  the  cloud  open  the 
book  and  bid  the  world  draw  near.  Yet  there  was,  by  reason  of  a  fierce  flame  that 
issued  out  and  came  from  before  him,  a  convenient  distance  between  him  and  them, 


THE  JUDGMENT  DA  Y, 


79 


as  between  the  judge  and  the  prisoners  at  the  bar.  i  Cor.  15  ;  i  Thess.  4:  16;  Jude 
15;  John  5:28,  29;  2  Thess.  1:8-10;  Rev.  20:11-14;  Lsa.  26:21;  Micah  7:16,  17; 
Psa.  5:4;  50: 1-3  ;  Mai.  3  : 2,  3  :  Dan.  7:9,  10.  I  heard  it  also  proclaimed  to  them  that 
attended  on  the  man  that  sat  on  the  cloud,  '  Gather  together  the  tares,  the  chaff,  and 
stubble,  and  cast  them  into  the  burning  lake.'  Matt.  3:12;  18:30;  24:30;  Mai.  4:1. 
And  with  that  the  bottomless  pit  opened  just  whereabout  I  stood ;  out  of  the  mouth 
of  which  there  came,  in  an  abundant  manner,  smoke  and  coals  of  fire,  with  hideous 
noises.  It  was  also  said  to  the  same  persons,  '  Gather  my  wheat  into  the  garner.' 
Luke  3:17.  And  with  that  I  saw  many  catched  up  and  carried  away  into  the  clouds, 
but  I  was  left  behind,  i  Thess.  4:  16,  17.  I  also  sought  to  hide  myself,  but  I  could 
not,  for  the  man  that  sat  upon  the  cloud  still  kept  his  eye  upon  me ;  my  sins  also  ' 
came  into  my  mind,  and  my  conscience  did  accuse  me  on  every  side.  Rom.  2: 14,  15. 
Upon  this  I  awakened  from  my  sleep." 

CHR.  But  what  was  it  that  made  you 
so  afraid  of  this  sight  ? 

MAN.  Why,  I  thought  that  the  day  of 
judgment  was  come,  and  that  I  was  not 
ready  for  it:  but  this  frighted  me  most, 
that  the  angels  gathered  up  several,  and 
left  me  behind ;  also  the  pit  of  hell  opened 
her  mouth  just  where  I  stood.  My  con- 
science too  afflicted  me ;  and,  as  I  thought, 
the  Judge  had  always  his  eye  upon  me, 
showing  indignation  in  his  countenance. 

Then  said  the  Interpreter  to  Christian, 
"  Hast  thou  considered  all  these  things?" 

CHR.  Yes,  and  they  put  me  in  hope 
and  fear. 

INTER.  Well,  keep  all  things  so  in  thy 
mind  that  they  may  be  as  a  goad  in  thy\f 
sides,  to  prick  thee  forward  in  the  way 
thou  must  go. 

Then  Christian  began  to  gird  up  his 
loins  and  to  address  himself  to  his  jour- 
ney. Then  said  the  Interpreter,  "The 
Comforter  be  always  with  thee,  good 

Christian,  to  guide  thee  in  the  way  that  leads  to  the  city."     So  Christian  went  on  his 
way,  saying, 

"  Here  I  have  seen  things  rare  and  profitable, 
Things  pleasant,  dreadful,  things  to  make  me  stable 
In  what  I  have  begun  to  take  in  hand : 
Then  let  me  think  on  them,  and  understand 
Wherefore  they  showed  me  were,  and  let  me  be 
Thankful,  O  good  Interpreter,  to  thee." 


"HELL  OPENED  HER  MOUTH  JUST  WHRRE  i  STOOD.' 


'THE  BURDEN  FELL  OFF  HIS  BACK  AND  BEGAN  TO  TUMBLE." 


AT  THE  CROSS  OF  CHRIST. 


Si 


THE  THIRD  STAGE. 


Now  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  the  highway  up  which  Christian  was  to  go  was 
fenced  on  either  side  withawajl,  and  that  wall  was  called  Salvation.  Isa.  26:1.  Up 
this  way,  therefore,  did  burdened  Christian  run,  but  not  without  great  difficulty,  be- 
cause of  the  load  on  his  back. 

He  ran  thus  till  he  came  at  a  place  somewhat  ascending ;  and  upon  that  place 
stood  a  cross,  and  a  little  below,  in  the  bottom,  a  sepulchre.  So  I  saw  in  my  dream 
that  just  as  Christian  came  up  with  the  cross  his  burden  loosed  from  off  his  shoulders 
and  fell  from  off  his  back  and  began_io_Jbimble,  and  so  continued  to  do  till  it  came 
to  the  moutlbL  .oL.  the  sepulchre,  where  it 
fell  in  and  I  saw  it  no  more. 

Then  was   Christian   glad   and  light- 
when  God  re-  some,  and  said  with  a  merry 

leases    us   of  our 

guilt  and  burden,  heart,    "  He   hath    given   me 

wi:    are   as   those 

that  leap  for  joy.  rest  by  his  sorrow,  and  life 
by  his  death."  Then  he  stood  still  a  while 
to  look  and  wonder,  for  it  was  very  sur- 
prising to  him  that  the  sight  of  the  cross 
should  thus  ease  him  of  his  burden.  He 
looked,  therefore,  and  looked  again,  even 
till  the  springs  that  were  in  his  head  sent 
the  waters  down  his  cheeks.  Zech.  12 : 10. 
Now  as  he  stood  looking  and  weeping, 
behold,  three  Shining  Ones_cam^  t<~>  him 
and  saluted  h i m.  wi th .  "  Peace  be  to  thee." 
So  the  first  said  to  him,  "  Thy_sins_he  for- 
given thee."  Mark  2:5  ;  the  secqnd^stripped 
him  of  iuSu-leigs  and  clothed^  him  with 
change  of  raiment,  Zech.  3:4;  the^  third 
also  set  a  mark  on_  his  forehead,  Eph.  1:13, 
and  gave  him  a  roll  with  a  seal  upon  it, 
which  he  bid  him  look  on  as  he  ran,  and 
A  ruristian  can  that  he  should  give  it  in  at 

Bing  though  atone,  .  m+          .^,     ...  ,-. 

God  doth  the  celestial  gate.      So  they  went  their  way.     Then  Christian  gave  three 


give    him  joy 
his  heart. 


leaps  for  joy,  and  went  on  .singing, 


"Thus  far  did  I  come  laden  with  my  sin, 
Nor  could  aught  ease  the  grief  that  I  was  in, 
Till  I  came  hither.     What  a  place  is  this  ! 
Must  here  be  the  beginning  of  my  bliss? 


II 


"  BEHOLD,  THREE  SHINING  ONES  CAME  TO  HIM  AND  SALUTED  HIM."     • 


FORMA  US  T  AND  H  YPOCRIS  Y. 


Must  here  the  burden  fall  from  off  my  back? 
Must  here  the  strings  that  bound  it  to  me  crack  ? 
Blest  cross  !   blest  sepulchre  !   blest,  rather,  be 
The  Man  that  there  was  put  to  shame  for  me  !"    • 

I  saw  then  in  my  dream  that  he  went  on  thus,  even  until  he  came  at  the  bottom, 
where  he  saw,  a  little  out  of  the  way,  three  men  fast  asleep  with  fetters  upon  their 
heels.  The  name  of  the  one  was  Simple,  of  another  Sloth,  and  of  the  third  Pre- 
sumption. 

Christian  then  seeing  them  lie  in  this  case,  went  to  them,  if  perad  venture  he 

might  awake  them,  and  cried,  "  You  are  like  them  that  sleep  on  the  top  of  a  mast, 

Prov.  23  :  34,  for  the  Dead  Sea  is  under  you.  a  gulf  that  hath  no  bottom.   Awake,  there- 

fore, and  come  away;  be  willing  also,  and  I  will  help  you  off  with  your  irons."     He 

also  told  them,  "  If  he  that  goeth  about  like  a  roaring  lion,  i  Pet.  5  :  8,  comes  by,  you 

will  certainly  become  a  prey  to  his  teeth."     With  that  they  looked  upon  him,  and 

There  is  no  per-  began  to  rep!y  in  this  sort  :  Simple  said,  "I  see  no  danger;"  Sloth  said, 

GwfTpeuelii'oot  "  Yet  a  little  more  sleeP  '»"  and  Presumption  said,  "  Every  tub  must  stand 

upon  its  own  bottom."     And  so  they  lay  down  to  sleep  again,  and  Chris- 

tian went  on  his  way. 

Yet  he  was  troubled  to  think  that  men  in 
that  danger  should  so  little  esteem  the  kind- 
ness of  him  that  so  freely  offered  to  help 
them,  both  by  awakening  of  them,  counsel- 
ling of  them,  and  proffering  to  help  them  off 
with  their  irons.  And  as  he  was  troubled 
thereabout,  he  espied  two  men  come  tum- 
bling over  the  wall  on  the  left  hand  of  the 
narrow  way  ;  and  they  made  up  apace  to  him. 
The  name  of  the  one  was  Formalist  and  the 
name  of  the  other  was  Hypocrisy.  So,  as  I 
said,  they  drew  up  unto  him",  Who  thus  en- 
tered with  them  into  discourse? 

CHR.  Gentlemen,  whence  came  you,  and 
whither  do  you  go  ? 

FORM,  and  HYP.  We  were  born__in  the 
land  of  Vainglory,  and  arc  going,  for  praise, 
to  Mt.  Zion. 

CHR.  Why  came  you  not  in  at  the  gate 
which  standeth  at  the  beginning  of  the  way  ? 
Know  ye  not  that  it  is  written  that  "  he  that 
cometh  not  in  by  the  door,  but  climbeth  up 
some  other  way,  the  same  is  a  thief  and  a  robber  "?  John  10:  i. 

Formalist  and  Hypocrisy  said  that  "to  go  to  the  gate  for  entrance  was  by  all 
their  countrymen  counted  too  far  about  ;  and  that  therefore  their  usual  way  was  to 


FORMALIST. 


84 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


make  a  short  cut  of  it,  and  to  climb  over  the 
wall,  as  they  had  done." 

CHR.  But  will  it  not  be  counted  a  trespass 
against  the  Lord  of  the  city  whither  we  are 
bound,  thus  to  violate  his  revealed  will  ? 

They  told  him  that  as  for  that,  he  needed 
not  to  trouble  his  head  thereabout;  for  what 
they  did  they  had  custom  for,  and  could  pro- 
duce, if  need  were,  testimony  that  would  wit- 
ness it  for  more  than  a  thousand  years.  . 

"But,"  said  Christian,  "will  you  stand  a 
trial  at  law?" 

They  told  him  that  "  custom,  it  being  of  so 
long  standing  as  above  a  thousand 

They  that  come 

years,  would  doubtless  now  be  ad-  JJJJ"  JJC  t]™ y^!;)}.1 
mitted  as  a  thing  legal  by  an  im-  SKwS8.SS 
partial  judge;  and  besides,"  said  Practlce- 
they,  "  if  we  get  into  the  way,  what  matter  is 
it  which  way  we  get  in?  If  we  are  in,  we 
are  in.  Thou  art  but  in  the  way,  who,  as  we 

HYPOCRISY.  .  ,1  , 

perceive,  came  in  at  the  gate;  and  we  also 

are  in  the  way  that  came  tumbling  over  the  wall:  wherein  now  is  thy  condition 
better  than  ours?" 

CHR.  I  walk  by  the  rule  of  my  Master;  you  walk  by  the  rude  working  of  your 
fancies.  You  are  counted  thieves  already  by  the  Lord  of  the  way ;  therefore  I  doubt 
you  will  not  be  found  true  men  at  the  end  of  the  way.  You  come  in  by  yourselves 
without  his  direction,  and  shall  go  out  by  yourselves  without  his  mercy. 

To  this  they  made  him  but  little  answer,  only  they  bid  him  look  to  himself. 
Then  I  saw  that  they  went  on,  every  man  in  his  way,  without  much  conference  one 
with  another,  save  that  these  two  men  told  Christian  that  as  to  laws  and  ordinances, 
they  doubted  not  but  that  they  should  as  conscientiously  do  them  as  he.  "  Therefore," 
said  they,  "  we  see  not  wherein  thou  differest  from  us  but  by  the  coat  that  is  on  thy 
back,  which  was,  as  we  trow,  given  thee  by  some  of  thy  neighbors  to  hide  the  shame 
of  thy  nakedness." 

CHR.  By  laws  and  ordinances  you  will  not  be  saved,  since  you  came  not  in  by  the 
door.  Gal.  2:16.  And  as  for  this  coat  that  is  on  my  back,  it  was  given  me  by  the 
Lord  of  the  place  whither  I  go ;  and  that,  as  you  say,  to  cover  my  nakedness  with. 
And  I  take  it  as  a  token  of  kindness  to  me,  for  I  had  nothing  but  rags  Christian  has  got 
before.  And  besides  thus  I  comfort  myself  as  I  go.  Surely,  think  I,  J|g  *£££*  <™*  fs 
when  I  come  to  the  gate  of  the  city  the  Lord  thereof  will  know  me  for  SrtSfSSwSS 
good,  since  I  have  his  coat  on  my  back,  a  coat  that  he  gave  me  freely  in  mark  ancl  llis  rou- 
the  day  that  he  stripped  me  of  my  rags.  I  have,  moreover,  a  mark  in  my  forehead,  of 
which  perhaps  you  have  taken  no  notice,  which  one  of  my  Lord's  most  intimate  asso- 


THE  HILL  DIFFICULTY. 


Christian  come? 
to  the  hill  Diffi- 
culty. 


J 


ciates  fixed  there  in  the  day  that  my  burden  fell  off  my  shoulders.  I  will  tell  you, 
moreover,  that  I  had  then  given  me  a  roll  sealed,  to  comfort  me  by  reading  as  I  go  on 
the  way ;  I  was  also  bid  to  give  it  in  at  the  celestial  gate  in  token  of  my  certain  going 
in  after  it ;  all  which  things  I  doubt  you  want,  and  want  them  because  you  came  not 
in  at  the  gate. 

To  these  things  they  gave  him  no  answer ;  only  they  looked  upon  each  other  and   , 
laughed.     Then  I  saw  that  they  all  went  on,  save  that  Christian  kept  before,  who 
had  no  more  talk  but  with  himself,  and  that  sometimes  sighingly  and  sometimes  com- 
fortably ;  also  he  would  be  often  reading  in  the  roll  that  one  of  the  Shining  Ones 
gave  him,  by  which  he  was  refreshed. 

I  beheld  then  that  they  all  went  on  till  they  came  to  the  foot  of  the 
hill  Difficulty,  at  the  bottom  of  which  there  was  a  spring.  There  were 
also  in  the  same  place  two  other  ways  besides  that  which  came  straight  from  the  gate. 
One  turned  to  the  left  hand  and  the  other  to  the  right,  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill ;  but 
the  narrow  way  lay  right  up  the  hill,  and  the  name  of  the  going  up  the  side  of  the  hill 
is  called  Difficulty.  Christian  now  went  to  the  spring,  Isa.~49 : 10,  and  drank  thereof 
to  refresh  himself,  and  then  began  to  go 
up  the  hill,  saying, 

"The  hill,  though  high,  I  covet  to  ascend; 
The  difficulty  will  not  me  offend ; 
For  I  perceive  the  way  to  life  is  here. 
Come,  pluck  up  heart;  let's  neither  faint  nor  fear. 
Better,  though  difficult,  the  right  way  to  go, 
Than  wrong,  though  easy,  where  the  end  is  woe." 

The  other  two  also  came  to  the  foot 
of  the  hill.  But  when  they  saw  that  the 
hill  was  steep  and  high  and  that  there 
were  two  other  ways  to  go,  and  supposing 
also  that  these  two  ways  might  meet  again 
with  that  up  which  Christian  went,  on  the 
Bother  side  of  the  hill,  therefore  they  were 
resolved  to  go  in  those  ways.  Now  the 
name_of  one  of  those^ways  was  Danger 
and  the  name  of  the  other  Destruction.  So 
The  danger  of  the  one  took  the  way  which  is 

turning  out  of  the         -,,-,-,->.  1  .  \    1     ,  1  . 

way.  called  Danger,  which  led  him 

into  a  great  wood;  and  the  other  took 
directly  up  the  way  to  Destruction,  which 
led  him  into  a  wide  field  full  of  dark 
mountains,  where  he  stumbled  and  fell 
and  rose  no  more. 

I  looked  then  after  Christian  to  see  him  go  up  the  hill,  where  I  perceived  he  fell 
from  running  to  going,  and  from  going  to  clambering  upon  his  hands  and  knees, 


''HE   FELL   AND    ROSR    NO   MORE." 


'HE  FELL  FROM  RUNNING  TO  GOING,  AND 


FROM  GOING  TO  CLAMBERING  ON  HIS  KNEES." 


AN  UNTIMEL  Y  SLEEP. 


He  that  sleeps 


because  of  the  steepness  of  the  place.  Now  about  the  midway  to  the  top  of  the  hill 
was  a  pleasant  Arbor,  made  by  the  Lord  of  the  hill  for  the  refreshment  of  weary 
travellers.  Thither,  therefore,  Christian  got,  where  also  he  sat  down  to  rest  him: 
then  he  pulled  his  roll  out  of  his  bosom  and  read  therein  to  his  comfort ;  he  also  now 

began  afresh  to  take  a  review  of  the  coat 
or  garment  that  was  given  to  him  as  he 
stood  by  the  cross.  Thus  pleasing  him- 
self a  while,  he  at  last  fell  into  a  slumber 
and  thence  into  a  fast  sleep,  which  de- 
tained him  in  that  place  until  it  was 
almost  night;  and  in  his  sleep  his  roll 
fell  out  of  his  hand.  Now  as 
he  was  sleeping  there  came 
one  to  him  and  awaked  him,  saying, 
"  Go  to  the  ant,  thou  sluggard ;  consider 
her  ways,  and  be  wise."  Prov.  6:6.  And' 
with  that  Christian  suddenly  started  up 
and  sped  him  on  his  way  and  went  apace 
till  he  came  to  the  top  of  the  hill. 

Now  when  he  was  got  up  to  the  top 
of  the  hill  there  came  two  men  running 
the  name  of  the  one 
and    of    the 

other  Mistrust.. 'to  whom  Christian  said, 
"Sirs,  what's  the  matter?  You  run  the 
wrong  way." 

Timorous  answered  that  "they  were 
going  to  the  city  of  Zion,  and  had  got  up 
that  difficult  place;  but,"  said  he,  "the 

further  we  go  the  more  danger  we  meet  with ;  wherefore  we  turned  and  are  going 
back  again."  — 

"Yes,"  said  Mistrust,  "  for  just  before  us  lie  a  couple  of  lions  in  the  way,  whether 
sleeping  or  waking  we  know  not ;  and  we  could  not  think,  if  we  came  within  reach, 
but  they  would  presently  pull  us  in  pieces." 

Then  said  Christian,  "  You  make  me  afraid ;  but  whither  shall  I  fly  to  be  safe  ? 

If  I  go  back  to  my  own  country,  that  is  prepared  for  fire  and  brimstone,  and  I  shall 

certainly  perish  there ;  if  I  can  get  to  the  celestial  city,  I  am  sure  to  be  in  safety  there : 

I  must  venture.     To  go  back  is  nothing  but  death,  to  go  forward  is  fear  of  death,  and 

life  everlasting  beyond  it;  I  will  yet  go  forward."     So  Mistrust  and  Timorous  ran 

t  down  the  hill  and  Christian  went  on  his  way.     But  thinking  again  of  what  he  had 

Christian  misses  neard  from  the  men,  he  felt  in  his  bosom  for  his  roll,  that  he  might  read 

housed  to  b'e  com1-  therein  and  be  comforted;   but  he  felt,  and  found  it  not.     Then  was 

Christian  in  great  distress  and  knew  not  what  to  do ;  for  he  wanted  that 


cimstian  meets  aman 

with  Timorous  and 

Mistrust.  was     Timorous 


:  HE   FELL    IN  TO   A    FAST   SLEEP." 


88 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


TIMOROUS. 


which  used  to  relieve  him  and 
that  which  should  have  been 
his  pass  into  the  celestial  city. 
Here,  therefore,  he  began  to 
be  much  perplexed,  and  knew 
not  what  to  do.  At  last  he  be- 
thought himself  that  he  had 
slept  in  the  arbor  that  is  on 
the  side  of  the  hill;  and  fall- 
ing down  upon  his  knees,  he 
asked  God's  forgiveness  for 
that  foolish  act,  and  then  went  r 
back  to  look  for  his  roll.  But 
all  the  way  he  went  back  who 
can  sufficiently  set  forth  the 
sorrow  of  Christian's  heart? 
Sometimes  he  sighed,  some- 
times he  wept,  and  oftentimes 
he  chid  himself  for  being  so 
foolish  to  fall  asleep  in  that 
place,  which  was  erected  only 
for  a  little  refreshment  from 
his  weariness.  Thus,  therefore, 
he  went  back,  carefully  looking 
on  this  side  and  on  that,  all  the 
way  as  he  went,  if  happily  he 
might  find  his  roll  that  had 
been  his  comfort  for  so  many 
times  in  his  journey.  He  went 
thus  till  he  came  again  within 
sight  of  the  arbor  where  he  sat 
and  slept;  but  that  sight  re- 
newed his  sorrow  the  more,  by 
bringing  again,  even  afresh,  his 


evil  of  sleeping  unto  his  mind.     Rev.  2:4;  i  Thess.  5  : 6-8.     Thus,  there-        Christian  be- 

.  .         .  .  wails   his    foolish 

fore,  he  now  went  on,  bewailing  his  sinful  sleep,  saying,  "  Oh,  wretched  sleeping, 
man  that  I  am,  that  I  should  sleep  in  the  daytime ;  that  I  should  sleep  in  the  midst  of 
difficulty;  that  I  should  so  indulge  the  flesh  as  to  use  that  rest  for  ease  to  my  flesh 
which  the  Lord  of  the  hill  hath  erected  only  for  the  relief  of  the  spirits  of  pilgrims ! 
How  many  steps  have  I  taken  in  vain !     Thus  it  happened  to  Israel ;  for  their  sin  • 
they  were  sent  back  again  by  the  way  of  the  Red  Sea ;  and  I  am  made  to  tread 
those  steps  with  sorrow  which  I  might  have  trod  with  delight  had  it  not  been  for 
this  sinful  sleep.     How  far  might  I  have  been  on  my  way  by  this  time !      I  am 


CHRISTIAN  RECOVERS  HIS  ROLL. 


89 


made  to  tread  those  steps  thrice  over  which  I  needed  not  to  have  trod  but  once : 
yea,  now  also  I  am  like  to  be  benighted,  for  the  day  is  almost  spent.  Oh,  that  I  had 
not  slept !" 

Now  by  this  time  he  was  come  to  the  arbor  again,  where  for  a  while  he  sat  down 
Christian  find-  and  wTept ;  but  at  last  (as  Providence  would  have  it),  looking  sorrowfully 
he  lost  it,  down  under  the  settle,  there  he  espied  his  .roll,  the  which  he  with  trem- 

bling and  haste  catched  up  and 
put  into  his  bosom.  But  who  can 
tell  how  joyful  this  man  was  when 
he  had  gotten  his  roll  again? 
For  this  roll  was  the  assurance  of 
\  his  life  and  acceptance  at  the  de- 
sired haven.  Therefore  he  laid 
it  up  in  his  bosom,  gave  thanks 
to  God  for  directing  his  eye  to 
the  place  where  it  lay,  and  with 
joy  and  tears  betook  himself  again 
to  his  journey.  But  oh,  how  nim- 
bly did  he  go  up  the  rest  of  the 
hill !  Yet  before  he  got  up  the 
sun  went  down  upon  Christian, 
and  this  made  him  again  recall 
the  vanity  of  his  sleeping  to  his 
remembrance  ;  and  thus  he  again 
began  to  condole  with  himself: 
"  Oh,  thou  sinful  sleep,  how  for 
thy  sake  am  I  like  to  be  benighted 
in  my  journey !  I  must  walk 
without  the  sun,  darkness  must 
cover  the  path  of  my  feet,  and  I 
must  hear  the  noise  of  the  dole- 
ful creatures,  because  of  my  sin- 
ful sleep."  Now  also  he  remem- 
bered the  story  that  Mistrust  and 
Timorous  told  him  of,  how  they 
were  frightened  with  the  sight  of 
the  lions.  Then  said  Christian  to 
himself  again, "These  beasts  range 
in  the  night  for  their  prey ;  and  if 
they  should  meet  with  me  in  the 
dark,  how  should  I  shift  them? 
How  should  I  escape  being  by  them  torn  in  pieces  ?"  Thus  he  went  on  his  way.  But 

while  he  was  bewailing  his  unhappy  miscarriage,  he  lifted  up  his  eyes  and  behold 
12 


MISTRUST. 


9o 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS, 


there  was  a  very  stately  palace  before  him,  the  name  of  which  was  Beautiful,  and  it 

stood  by  the  highway-side. 

So  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  he  made  haste  and  went  forward,  that  if  possible  he 

might  get  lodging  there.  Now  before  he 
had  gone  far,  he  entered  into  a  very  nar- 
row passage,  which  was  about  a  furlong 
off  the  porter's  lodge ;  and  looking  very 
narrowly  before  him  as  he  went,  he  espied 
two  lions  in  the  way.  Now,  thought  he, 
I  see  the  dangers  that  Mistrust  and  Tim- 
orous were  driven  back  by.  (The  lions 
were  chained,  but  he  saw  not  the  chains.) 
Then  he  was  afraid,  and  thought  also  him- 
self to  go  back  after  them  ;  for  he  thought 
nothing  but  death  was  before  him.  But 
the  porter  at  the  lodge,  whose  name  is 
i  Watchful,  perceiving  that  Christian  made 
a  halt,  as  if  he  would  go  back,  cried  unto 
•  him,  saying,  "Is  thy  strength  so  small? 
Mark  4 : 40.  Fear  not  the  lions,  for  they 
are  chained,  and  are  placed  there  for  trial 
of  faith  where  it  is,  and  for  discovery  of 
those  that  have  none.  Keep  in  the  midst 
of  the  path,  and  no  hurt  shall  come  unto 
thee." 

Then  I  saw  that  he  went  on,  trem- 

WATCHFUL,  THE  PORTER. 

bling  for   fear   of    the  lions,  but  taking 

good  heed  to  the  directions  of  the  porter ;  he  heard  them  roar,  but  they  At  the  Palace 
did  him  no  harm.  Then  he  clapped  his  hands  and  went  on  till  he  came  T 
and  stood  before  the  gate  where  the  porter  was.  Then  said  Christian  to  the  porter, 
"Sir,  what  house  is  this?  and  may  I  lodge  here  to-night?"  The  porter  answered, 
"  This  house  was  built  by  the  Lord  of  the  hill,  and  he  built  it  for  the  relief  and 
security  of  pilgrims."  The  porter  also  asked  whence  he  was  and  whither  he  was  going. 

CHR.  I  am  come  from  the  city  of  Destruction,  and  am  going  to  Mt.  Zion ;  but 
because  the  sun  is  now  set,  I  desire,  if  I  may,  to  lodge  here  to-night. 

PORT.  What  is  your  name  ? 

i  CHR.  My  name  is  now  Christian,  but  my  name  at  the  first  was  Graceless ;  I  came 
of  the  race  of  Japheth,  whom  God  will  persuade  to  dwell  in  the  tents  of  Shem. 
Gen.  9:27. 

PORT.  But  how  doth  it  happen  that  you  come  so  late  ?    The  sun  is  set. 

CHR.  I  had  been  here  sooner  but  that,  wretched  man  as  I  am,  I  slept  in  the  arbor 
that  stands  on  the  hillside  !  Nay,  I  had,  notwithstanding  that,  been  here  much  sooner, 
but  that  in  my  sleep  I  lost  my  evidence,  and  came  without  it  to  the  brow  of  the 


'THE  LIONS  WERE  CHAINED,  BUT  HE  SAW  NOT  THE  CHAINS." 


92  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

hill ;  and  then  feeling  for  it,  and  not  finding  it,  I  was  forced  with  sorrow  of  heart 
to  go  back  to  the  place  where  I  slept  my  sleep,  where  I  found  it ;  and  now  I  am 
come. 

PORT.  Well,  I  will  call  out  one  of  the  virgins  of  this  place,  who  will,  if  she  likes 
your  talk,  bring  you  in  to  the  rest  of  the  family,  according  to  the  rules  of  the  house. 

So  Watchful  the  porter  rang  a  bell,  at  the  sound  of  which  came  out  of  the  door  of 
the  house  a  grave  and  beautiful  damsel  named  Discretion,  and  asked  why  she  was 
called. 

The  porter  answered,  "  This  man  is  on  a  journey  from  the  city  of  Destruction  to 
Mt.  Zion ;  but  being  weary  and  benighted,  he  asked  me  if  he  might  lodge  here  to- 
night :  so  I  told  him  I  would  call  for  thee,  who,  after  discourse  had  with  him,  may- 
est  do  as  seemeth  thee  good,  even  according  to  the  law  of  the  house." 

Then  she  asked  him  whence  he  was  arid  whither  he  was  going ;  and  he  told  her. 
She  asked  him  also  how  he  got  into  the  way ;  and  he  told  her.  Then  she  asked  him 
what  he  had  seen  and  met  with  in  the  way ;  and  he  told  her.  And  at  last  she  asked 
his  name.  So  he  said,  "  It  is  Christian ;  and  I  have  so  much  the  more  a  desire  to 
lodge  here  to-night,  because,  by  what  I  perceive,  this  place  was  built  by  the  Lord  of 
the  hill  for  the  relief  and  security  of  the  pilgrims."  So  she  smiled,  but  the  water 
stood  in  her  eyes ;  and  after  a  little  pause  she  said,  "  I  will  call  forth  two  or  three  more 
of  the  family."  So  she  ran  to  the  door  and  called  out  Prudence,  Piety,  and  Charity, 
who,  after  a  little  more  discourse  with  him,  had  him  into  the  family;  and  many  of 
them  meeting  him  at  the  threshold  of  the  house,  said,  "  Come  in,  thou  blessed  of  the 
Lord;  this  house  was  built  by  the  Lord  of  the  hill  on  purpose  to  entertain  such 
pilgrims  in."  Then  he  bowed  his  head  and  followed  them  into  the  house.  So  when 
he  was  come  in  and  sat  down,  they  gave  him  something  to  drink,  and  consented 
together  that,  until  supper  was  ready,  some  of  them  should  have  some  particular 
discourse  with  Christian,  for  the  best  improvement  of  time  ;  and  they  appointed  Piety, 
Prudence,  and  Charity  to  discourse  with  him ;  and  thus  they  began : 

PIETY.  Come,  good  Christian,  since  we  have  been  so  loving  to  you  as  to  receive 
you  into  our  house  this  night,  let  us,  if  perhaps  we  may  better  ourselves     Pjety  discourses 
thereby,  talk  with  you  of  all  things  that  have  happened  to  you  in  your  withllim- 
pilgrimage. 

CHR.  With  a  very  good  will ;  and  I  am  glad  that  you  are  so  well  disposed. 

PIETY.  What  moved  you  at  first  to  betake  yourself  to  a  pilgrim's  life? 

CHR.  I  was  driven  out  of  my  native  country  by  a  dreadful  sound      HOW  Christian 

<1111  .  ,.-.  ..     was  driven  out  of 

that  was  in  mine  ears :  to  wit,  that  unavoidable  destruction  did  attend  his  own  country. 
me  if  I  abode  in  that  place  where  I  was. 

PIETY.  But  how  did  it  happen  that  you  came  out  of  your  country  this  way  ? 

CHR.  It  was  as  God  would  have  it ;  for  when  I  was  under  the  fears  of  destruction 
I  did  not  know  whither  to  go ;  but  by  chance  there  came  a  man,  even  HOW  he  got 

,  •        '  •  T-\  f  -I        int°       tllC      W!1>'       '" 

to  me,  as  I  was  trembling  and  weeping,  whose  name  is  Evangelist,  and  zion. 

he  directed  me  to  the  wicket-gate,  which  else  I  should  never  have  found,  and  so  set 

me  into  the  way  that  hath  led  me  directly  to  this  house. 


"THIS  MAN   IS  ON  A  JOURNEY   FROM  THE  CITY   OF   DESTRUCTION  TO   MT.   ZION. 


\ 


94  DISCOURSE  AT  THE  HOUSE  BEAUTIFUL. 

PIETY.  But  did  you  not  come  by  the  house  of  the  Interpreter  ? 
CHR.  Yes,  and  did  see  such  things  there  the  remembrance  of  which  will  stick 
bv  me  as  long:  as  I  live,  especially  three  things :  to  wit,  how  Christ,  in       A  rehearsal  of 

J  .  .  ; —  wllilt   >'e  saw  in 

,  despite  of  Satan,  maintains  his  work  of  grace  in  the  heart;  how  the  man  tneway. 
had  sinned  himself  quite  out  of  hopes  of  God's  mercy ;  and  also  the  dream  of  him 
that  thought  in  his  sleep  the  day  of  judgment  was  come. 

PIETY.  Why,  did  you  hear  him  tell  his  dream  ? 

CHR.  Yes,  and  a  dreadful  one  it  was,  I  thought ;  it  made  my  heart  ache  as  he 
was  telling  of  it,  but  yet  I  am  glad  I  heard  it. 

PIETY.  Was  this  all  you  saw  at  the  house  of  the  Interpreter? 

CHR.  No ;  he  took  me  and  had  me  where  he  showed  me  a  stately  palace,  and 
how  the  people  were  clad  in  gold  that  were  in  it ;  and  how  there  came  a  venturous 
man  and  cut  his  way  through  the  armed  men  that  stood  in  the  door  to  keep  him 
out ;  and  how  he  was  bid  to  come  in  and  win  eternal  glory.  Methought  those  things 
did  ravish  my  heart.  I  would  have  stayed  at  that  good  man's  house  a  twelvemonth, 
but  that  I  knew  I  had  farther  to  go. 

PIETY.  And  what  saw  you  else  in  the  way? 

CHR.  Saw!  why,  I  went  but  a  little  farther,  and  I  saw  One,  as  I  thought  in  my 
mind,  hang  bleeding  upon  a  tree ;  and  the  very  sight  of  him  made  my  burden  fall 
off  my  back ;  for  I  groaned  under  a  very  heavy  burden,  but  then  it  fell  down  from  off 
me.  It  was  a  strange  thing  to  me,  for  I  never  saw  such  a  thing  before :  yea,  and 
while  I  stood  looking  up  (for  then  I  could  not  forbear  looking),  three  Shining  Ones 
came  to  me.  One  of  them  testified  that  my  sins'were  forgiven  me  ;  another  stripped 
me  of  my  rags  and  gave  me  this  broidered  coat  which  you  see ;  and  the  third  set  the 
mark  which  you  see  in  my  forehead  and  gave  me  this  sealed  roll.  And  with  that 
he  plucked  it  out  of  his  bosom. 

PIETY.  But  you  saw  more  than  this,  did  you  not  ? 

CHR.  The  things  that  I  have  told  you  were  the  best :  yet  some  other  matters  I 
saw,  as,  namely,  I  saw  three  men,  Simple,  Sloth,  and  Presumption,  lie  asleep  a  little 
out  of  the  way,  as  I  came,  with  irons  upon  their  heels ;  but  do  you  think  I  could 
awake  them  ?  I  also  saw  Formalist  and  Hypocrisy  come  tumbling  over  the  wall,  to  go, 
as  they  pretended,  to  Zion ;  but  they  were  quickly  lost,  even  as  I  myself  did  tell  them, 
but  they  would  not  believe.  But  above  all,  I  found  it  hard  work  to  get  up  this  hill, 
and  as  hard  to  come  by  the  lions'  mouths ;  and  truly,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  good 
man  the  porter,  that  stands  at  the  gate,  I  do  not  know  but  that,  after  all,  I  might  have 
gone  back  again ;  but  I  thank  God  I  am  here,  and  thank  you  for  receiving  me. 

Then  Prudence  thought  good  to  ask  him  a  few  questions,  and  desired  his  answer 
to  them. 

PRU.  Do  you  not  think  sometimes  of  the  country  from  whence  you  came  ? 

CHR.  Yea,  but  with  much  shame  and  detestation.     Truly,  if  I  had  Christian's 

been  mindful  of  that  country  from  whence  I  came  out,  I  might  have  tive  country. 
had   opportunity  to  have   returned;   but  now  I   desire  a  better  country,  that   is,  a 
heavenly  one.     Heb.  u  :  15,  16. 


DISCOURSE  AT  THE  HOUSE  BEAUTIFUL.  95 

PRU.  Do  you  not  yet  bear  away  with  you  some  of  the  things  that  then  you  were 
conversant  withal  ? 

CUR.  Yes,  but  greatly  against  my  will;  especially  my  inward  and  carnal  cogita- 
tions, with  which  all  my  countrymen,  as  well  as  myself,  were  delighted.  But  now 
all  those  things  are  my  grief;  and  might  I  but  choose  mine  own  things,  I  would 
choose  never  to  think  of  those  things  more :  but  when  I  would  be  a-doing  that  which 
is  best,  that  which  is.  worst  is  with  me.  Rom.  7  :  15,  21. 

PRU.  Do  you  not  find  sometimes  as  if  those  things  were  vanquished  which  at 
other  times  are  your  perplexity  ? 

Christian's  CHR.  Yes,  but  that  is  but  seldom  ;  but  they  are  to  me  golden  hours 
gouien  hours.  jn  w;h jcfo  such  things  happen  to  me. 

PRU.  Can  you  remember  by  what  means  you  find  your  annoyances  at  times  as 
if  they  were  vanquished  ? 

CHR.  Yes ;  when  I  think  what  I  saw  at  the  cross,  that  will  do  it ;  and  when  I  look 
upon  my  broidered  coat,  that  will  do  it;  and  when  I  look  into  the  roll  that  I  carry 
in  my  bosom,  that  will  do  it;  and  when  my  thoughts  wax  warm  about  whither  I 
am  going,  that  will  do  it. 

PRU.  And  what  is  it  that  makes  you  so  desirous  to  go  to  Mt.  Zion? 

CHR.  Why,  there  I  hope  to  see  Him  alive  that  did  hang  dead  on  the  cross; 
WHY  Christian  and  there  I  hope  to  be  rid  of  all  those  things  that  to  this  day  are  in  \ 

would  be    at   Mt,  .  J  J 

/i»n.  me  an  annoyance  to  me:  there  they  say  there  is  no  death,  Isa.  25:8; 

Rev.  21:4;  and  there  I  shall  dwell  with  such  company  as  I  like  best.     For,  to  tell 
you  the  truth,  I  love  him  because  I  was  by  him  eased  of  my  burden  ;  and  I  am  weary   / 
of  my  inward  sickness.     I  would  fain  be  where  I  shall  die  no  more,  and  with  the 
company  that  shall  continually  cry,  Holy,  holy,  holy. 

Then  said  Charity  to  Christian,  "  Have  you  a  family ;  are  you  a  married  man  ?" 

CIIR.  I  have  a  wife  and  four  small  children. 

CHAR.  And  why  did  you  not  bring  them  along  with  you  ? 
Christian's  love  Then  Christian  wept  and  said,   "  Oh,  how  willingly  would  I  have 

to    his    wife    and  , 

children.  done  it!   but  they  were  all   of  them   utterly  averse  to  my   going   on 

pilgrimage." 

CHAR.  But  you  should  have  talked  to  them,  and  have  endeavored  to  show  them 
the  danger  of  staying  behind. 

CHR.  So  I  did ;  and  told  them  also  wh#t  God  had  shown  to  me  of  the  destruction 
of  our  city ;  but  I  seemed  to  them  as  one  that  mocked,  and  they  believed  me  not. 
Gen.  19:  14. 

CHAR.  And  did  you  pray  to  God  that  he  would  bless  your  counsel  to  them  ? 

CHR.  Yes,  and  that  with  much  affection  ;  for  you  must  think  that  my  wife  and 
poor  children  were  very  dear  to  me. 

Christian's  fear  CHAR.  But  did   you  tell  them  of  your  own  sorrow  and  fear  of  de- 

be  reart'ln  K§?  struction  ?  for  I  suppose  that  destruction  was  visible  enough  to  you. 
countenance.  CHR.  Yes,  over  and  over  and  over.     They  might  also  see  my  fears 

in  my  countenance,  in  my  tears,  and  also  in  my  trembling  under  the  apprehension 


DISCOURSE  ABOUT  THE  LORD  OF  THE  HILL.  97 

of  the  judgment  that  did  hang  over  our  heads ;  but  all  was  not  sufficient  to  prevail 
with  them  to  come  with  me. 

CHAR.  But  what  could  they  say  for  themselves  why  they  came  not? 
The  cause  why  CHR.  Why,  my  wife  was  afraid  of  losing  this  world,  and  my  children 

Jlren^ua^m/'go  were  given  to  the  foolish  delights  of  youth ;  so,  what  by  one  thing,  and. 
with  him.  what  by  another,  they  left  me  to  wander  in  this  manner  alone. 

CHAR.  But  did  you  not,  with  your  vain  life,  damp  all  that  you,  by  words,  used 
by  way  of  persuasion  to  bring  them  away  with  you  ? 

CHR.  Indeed,  I  cannot  commend  my  life,  for  I  am  conscious  to  myself  of  many 
failings  therein.  I  know  also  that  a  man,  by  his  conversation,  may  soon  overthrow 
what,  by  argument  or  persuasion,  he  doth  labor  to  fasten  upon  others  for  their  good. 

Christian's  good  Yet  this  l  can  sa^'  J  was  very  wary  of  givin£  them  occasion,  by  any 
fiTOVwsM!rtte  and  unseemly  action,  to  make  them  averse  to  going  on  pilgrimage.  Yea, 
for  this  very  thing  they  would  tell  me  I  was  too  precise,  and  that  I 
denied  myself  of  things  (for  their  sakes)  in  which  they  saw  no  evil.  Nay,  I  think 
I  may  say  that  if  what  they  saw  in  me  did  hinder  them,  it  was  my  great  tenderness 
in  sinning  against  God  or  of  doing  any  wrong  to  my  neighbor. 

CHAR.  Indeed,  Cain  hated  his  brother,  because  his  own  works  were  evil,  and 
his  brother's  righteous,  i  John  3:12;  and  if  thy  wife  and  children  have  been  offended 
with  thee  for  this,  they  thereby  show  themselves  to  be  implacable  to  good ;  thou 
hast  delivered  thy  soul  from  their  blood.  Ezek.  3:19. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  thus  they  sat  talking  together  until  supper  was 
ready.      So  when  they  had  made  ready,  they  sat  down  to  meat.      Now  the  table  was 
furnished  with  fat  things,  and  with  wine  that  was  well  refined ;  and  all  their  talk  at  *^ 
Their  talk  at  the  table  was  about  the  Lord  of  the  hill,  as,  namely,  about  what  he  had 
done,  and  wherefore  he  did  what  he  did,  and  why  he  had  builded  that 
house ;  and  by  what  they  said,  I  perceived  that  he  had  been  a  great  warrior,  and  had 
fought  with  and  slain  him  that  had  the  power  of  death,  Heb.  2  : 14,  15  ;  but  not  without 
great  danger  to  himself,  which  made  me  love  him  the  more. 

For,  as  they  said,  and  as  I  believe,  said  Christian,  he  did  it  with  the  loss  of  much 
blood.  But  that  which  put  the  glory  of  grace  into  all  he  did,  was  that  he  did  it  out  of 
pure  love  to  his  country.  And  besides,  there  were  some  of  them  of  the  household 
that  said  they  had  been  and  spoke  with  him  since  he  did  die  on  the  cross;  and  they 
have  attested  that  they  had  it  from  his  own  lips  that  he  is  such  a  lover  of  poor 
pilgrims  that  the  like  is  not  to  be  found  from  the  east  to  the  west.  They,  moreover, 
gave  an  instance  of  what  they  affirmed ;  and  that  was,  he  had  stripped  himself  of  his 
glory  that  he  might  do  this  for  the  poor,  and  that  they  heard  him  say  and  affirm  that 
he  would  not  dwell  in  the  mountain  of  Zion  alone.  They  said,  moreover,  that  he  had 
made  many  pilgrims  princes,  though  by  nature  they  were  beggars  born,  and  their 
original  had  been  the  dunghill.  2  Sam.  2:8;  Psa.  113:7. 

Thus  they  discoursed  together  till  late  at  night :  and  after  they  had  committed    . 
themselves  to  their  Lord  for  protection,  they  betook  themselves  to  rest.     The  pilgrim 
they  laid  in  a  large  upper  chamber,  whose  window  opened  towards  the  sun-rising. 
13 


98  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

A   The  name  of  the  chamber  was  Peace,  where  he  slept  till  break  of  day,     Christian's  bea 
and  then  he  awoke  and  sang,  chamber. 

"  Where  am  I  now?     Is  this  the  love  and  care 
Of  Jesus  for  the  men  that  pilgrims  are, 
Thus  to  provide  that  I  should  be  forgiven, 
And  dwell  already  the  next  door  to  heaven  !" 

So  in  the  morning  they  all  got  up ;  and,  after  some  more  discourse,  they  told  him  that 
^  he  should  not  depart  till  they  had  shown  him  the  rarities  of  that  place.  Christian  had 
And  first  they  had  him  into  the  study,  where  they  showed  him  records  of  whathe  8hedy'  saw 
the  greatest  antiquity ;  in  which,  as  I  remember  my  dream,  they  showed  l 
him  the  pedigree  of  the  Lord  of  the  hill,  that  he  was  the  Son  of  the  Ancient  of  days, 
and  came  by  eternal  generation.  Here  also  was  more  fully  recorded  the  acts  that  he 
had  done,  and  the  names  of  many  hundreds  that  he  had  taken  into  his  service ;  and 
how  he  had  placed  them  in  such  habitations  that  could  neither  by  length  of  days 
nor  decays  of  nature  be  dissolved. 

Then  they  read  to  him  some  of  the  worthy  acts  that  some  of  his  servants  had 
done;  as  how  they  had  subdued  kingdoms,  wrought  righteousness,  obtained  promises, 
stopped  the  mouths  of  lions,  quenched  the  violence  of  fire,  escaped  the  edge  of  the 
sword,  out  of  weakness  were  made  strong,  waxed  valiant  in  fight,  and  turned  to  flight 
the  armies  of  the  aliens.  Heb.  11:33,  34- 

Then  they  read  again  another  part  of  the  records  of  the  house,  where  it  was 
shown  how  willing  their  Lord  was'  to  receive  into  his  favor  any,  even  any,  though 
they  in  time  past  had  offered  great  affronts  to  his  person  and  proceedings.  Here  also 
were  several  other  histories  of  many  other  famous  things,  of  all  which  Christian  had  a 
view ;  as  of  things  both  ancient  and  modern,  together  with  prophecies  and  predictions 
of  things  that  have  their  certain  accomplishment,  both  to  the  dread  and  amazement  of 
enemies  and  the  comfort  and  solace  of  pilgrims. 

\        The  next  day  they  took  him  and   had  him  into  the  armory,  where        Christian  had 
they  showed  him  all  manner  of  furniture  which  their  Lord  had  provided  l 
for  pilgrims,  as  sword,  shield,  helmet,  breastplate,  all-prayer,  and  shoes  that  would  not 
wear  out.     And  there  was  here  enough  of  this  to  harness  out  as  many  men  for  the 
service  of  their  Lord  as  there  be  stars  in  the  heaven  for  multitude. 

They  also  showed  him  some  of  the  engines  with  which  some  of  his  servants  had 
4  done  wonderful  things.  The)r  showed  him  MqsesI,  rod ;  the  hammer  jmd_nail  with 
which  Jael  slewjSisera ;  the  pitchers,  trumpets,  and  lamps  too,  with  which  Gideon^  put 
to  flight  the'  armies  of  Midian.  Then  they  showecTTiim  the  ox-goad  wherewith 
Shamgar  slew  six  hundred  men.  They  showed  him  also  the  jawbone  .with  which 
Samsonjlid  such  mighty  feats.  They  showed  him,  moreover,  the  sling, .ajidjstone- with 
which  David  slew  Goliath  of  Gath ;  and  the  sword  also  with  which  their  Lord  will  kill 
the  man  of  sin,  in  the  day  that  he  shall  rise  up  to  the  prey.  They  showed  him  besides 
many  excellent  things,  with  which  Christian  was  much  delighted.  This  done  they 
went  to  their  rest  again. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  on  the  morrow  he  got  up  to  go  forward,  but 


"THEY  READ  TO  HIM  SOME  ov  THE  WORTHY  ACTS  THAT  SOME  OK  HIS  SERVANTS  HAD  DONE.' 


ioo  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

they  desired  him  to  stay  till  the  next  day  also.  "And  then,"  said  they,  "we  will,  if  the 
day  be  clear,  show  you  the  Delectable  mountains  ;"  which,  they  said,  would  yet  further 
add  to  his  comfort,  because  they  were  nearer  the  desired  haven  than  the  place  where 
at  present  he  was;  so  he  consented  and  stayed.  When  the  morning  was  up,  they 


had  him  to  the  top  of  the  house,  and  bid  him  look  south.     So  he  did,     c'msuan 

ed  the  Delectable 

and  behold,  at  a  great  distance,  he  saw  a  most  pleasant  mountainous  mountains. 
country,  beautified  with  woods,  vineyards,  fruits  of  all  sorts,  flowers  also,  with  springs 
and  fountains,  very  delectable  to  behold.  Isa.  33:  16,  17.  Then  he  asked  the  name 
of  the  country.  They  said  it  was  Immanucl  s  land;  "and  it  is  as  common,"  said  they, 
"as  this  hill  is,  to  and  for  all  the  pilgrims.  And  when  thou  comest  there,  from  thence 
thou  mayest  see  to  tlie  'gate  of  the  celestial  city,  as  the  shepherds  that  live  there 
will  make  appear." 

Now  he  bethought  himself  of  setting  forward,  and  they  were  willing  he  should. 
But  first,  said  they,  let  us  go  again  into  the  armory.  So  they  did  ;  and  when  he  came 
there,  they  harnessed  him  from  head  to  foot  with  what  was  of  proof,  lest  perhaps 
he  should  meet  with  assaults  in  the  way.  He  being  therefore  thus  ciiristian  sent 
accoutred,  walked  out  with  his  friends  to  the  gate  ;  and  there  he  asked  away  anncd- 
the  porter  if  he  saw  any  pilgrim  pass  by.  Then  the  porter  answered,  "  Yes." 

"  Pray,  did  you  know  him?"  said  Christian. 

PORT.  I  asked  his  name,  and  he  told  me  it  was  Faithful. 

"  Oh,"  said  Christian,  "  I  know  him  ;  he  is  my  townsman,  my  near  neighbor  ; 
he  comes  from  the  place  where  I  was  born.  How  far  do  you  think  he  may  be 
before  ?" 

PORT.  He  is  got  by  this  time  below  the  hill. 

"  Well,"  said  Christian,  "  good  porter,  the  Lord  be  with  thee,  and  add  to  all  thy 
blessings  much  increase  for  the  kindness  that  thou  hast  showed  me." 


IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  HUMILIATION.  101 


THE  FOURTH  STAGE. 

THEN  he  began  to  go  forward ;  but  Discretion,  Piety,  Charity,  and  Prudence 
would  accompany  him  down  to  the  foot  of  "the  hill.  So  they  went  on  together, 
reiterating  their  former  discourses,  till  they  came  to  go  down  the  hill.  Then  said 
Christian,  "As  it  was  difficult  coming  up,  so,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  it  is  dangerous  going 
down."  "  Yes,"  said  Prudence,  "  so  it  is  ;  for  it  is  a  hard  matter  for  a  man  to  go  down 
TUG  vaiiey  of  into  the  valley  of  Humiliation,  as  thou  art  now,  and  to  catch  no  slip 
Humiliation.  j^y  faQ  way .  therefore,"  said  they,  "we  are  come  out  to  accompany  thee 
down  the  hill."  So  he  began  to  go  down,  but  very  warily;  yet  he  caught  a  slip 
or  two. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  these  good  companions,  when  Christian  was  got 
down  to  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  gave  him  a  loaf  of_bread,  a  bottle  of  wine,  and  a 
cluster  of  raisins ;  and  then  he  went  on  his  way. 

While  Christian  is  among  his  godly  friends, 
Their  golden  mouths  make  him  sufficient  mends 
For  all  his  griefs  ;  and  when  they  let  him  go, 
He  "s  clad  with  northern  steel  from  top  to  toe. 

But  now  in  this  valley  of  Humiliation  poor  Christian  was  hard  put  to  it;  for 

he  had  gone  but  a  little  way  before  he  espied  a  foul  fiend  coming  over  the  field  to 

meet  him:  his  name  is  Apollyotu-  Then  did  Christian  begin  to  be  afraid,  and  to 

cast  in  his  mind  whether  to  go  back  or  to  stand  his  ground.     But  he  considered, 

Christian  has  again,  that  he  had  no  armor  for  his  back,  and  therefore  thought  that 

no  armor  for  his  _  .  .     .  . 

back.  to  turn  the  back  to  him  might  give  him  greater  advantage  with  ease 

to  pierce  him  with  his  darts ;  therefore  he  resolved  to  venture  and  stand  his  ground. 
"  For,"  thought  he,  "  had  I  no  more  in  mine  eye  than  the  saving  of  my  life,  it  would 
be  the  best  way  to  stand." 

So  he  went  on,  and  Apollyon  met  him.  Now  the  monster  was  hideous  to  beholdp 
he  was  clothed  with  scales  like  a  fish,  and  they  are  hTs~pride ;  he  had  wings  like 
a  dragon  and  feet  like_a~ JbecKTTaTTtt'  out  of  his  belly  came  fire  and  smoke,  and  his 
mouth  was  as  the  mouth  of  a  lion.  When  he  was  come  up  to  Christian,  he  beheld 
him  with. a  disdainful  countenance,  and  thus  began  to  question  him : 

Discourse'          ApOL.  Whence  came  you,  and  whither  are  you  bound  ? 

between  Christian  •.          f   T^  .•  -U--U-.LI.-I 

and  Apoiiyon.  •  CHR.  I  am  come  from  the  city  of  Destruction,  which  is  the  place 

of  all  evil,  and  I  am  going  to  the  city  of  Zion. 

APOL.  By  this  I  perceive  that  thou  art  one  of  my  subjects ;  for  all  that  country 
is  mine,  and  I  am  the  prince  and  god  of  it.  How  is  it,  then,  that  thou  hast  run 
away  from  thy  king?  Were  it  not  that  I  hope  thou  mayest  do  me  more  service, 
I  would  strike  thee  now  at  one  blow  to  the  ground. 

CIIR.  I  was  indeed  born  in  your  dominions,  but  your  service  was  hard,  and  your 
wages  such  as  a  man  could  not  live  on ;  for  the  wages  of  sin  is  death,  Rom.  6:23; 


102  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

therefore,  when  I  was  come  to  years,  I  did  as  other  considerate  persons  do,  look  out 
if  perhaps  I  might  mend  myself. 

APOL.  There  is  no  prince  that  will  thus  lightly  lose  his  subjects,  neither  will 
I  as  yet  lose  thee ;  but  since  thou  complainest  of  thy  service  and  wages,  be  content 
to  go  back,  and  what  our  coantry  will  afford  I  do  here  promise  to  give  thee. 

CIIR.  But  I  have  let  myself  to  another,  even  to  the  King  of  princes;  and  how 
can  I  with  fairness  go  back  with  thee  ? 

APOL.  Thou  hast  done  in  this  according  to  the  proverb,  "  changed          The  service 
a  bad  for  a  worse ;"  but  it  is  ordinary  for  those  that  have  professed  them-  vaiueJTby  Tpou- 
selves  his  servants,  after  a  while  to  give  him  the  slip  and  return  again  you- 
to  me.     Do  thou  so  too,  and  all  shall  be  well. 

CHR.  I  have  given  him  my  faith  and  sworn  my  allegiance  to  him.  How  then 
can  I  go  back  from  this  and  not  be  hanged  as  a  traitor  ? 

APOL.  Thou  didst  the  same  by  me,  and  yet  I  am  willing  to  pass  by  all,  if  now 
thou  wilt  yet  turn  again  and  go  back. 

CHR.  What  I  promised  thee  was  in  my  nonage ;  and  besides,  I  count  that  the 
Prince  under  whose  banner  I  now  stand  is  able  to  absolve  me,  yea,  and  to  pardon 
also  what  I  did  as  to  my  compliance  with  thee.  And  besides,  O  thou  destroying 
Apollyon,  to  speak  truth,  I  like  his  service,  his  wages,  his  servants,  his  government, 
his  company  and  country,  better  than  thine ;  therefore  leave  off  to  persuade  me 
farther :  I  am  his  servant,  and  I  will  follow  him. 

APOL.  Consider  again,  when  thou  art  in  cool  blood,  what  thou  art  Apoiiyon 

like  to  meet  with  in  the  way  that  thou  goest.     Thou  knowest  that  for  the  <ms  ends  or  cims- 

M1  ..    ..  tians,  to  dissuade 

most  part  his  servants  come  to  an  ill  end,  because  they  are  transgressors  Christian    irom 

persisting    in    his 

against  me  and  my  ways.  How  many  of  them  have  been  put  to  shame-  way. 
ful  deaths!  And  besides,  thou  countest  his  service  better  than  mine;  whereas  he 
never  yet  came  from  the  place  where  he  is,  to  deliver  any  that  served  him  out  of 
their  enemies'  hands;  but  as  for  me,  how  many  times,  as  all  the  world  very  well 
knows,  have  I  delivered,  either  by  power  or  fraud,  those  that  have  faithfully  served 
me  from  him  and  his,  though  taken  by  them.  And  so  will  I  deliver  thee. 

CHR.  His  forbearing  at  present  to  deliver  them  is  on  purpose  to  try  their  love, 
whether  they  will  cleave  to  him  to  the  end ;  and  as  for  the  ill  end  thou  sayest  they 
come  to,  that  is  most  glorious  in  their  account.  For,  for  present  deliverance,  they 
do  not  much  expect  it ;  for  they  stay  for  their  glory  ;  and  then  they  shall  have  it,  when 
their  Prince  comes  in  his  and  the  glory  of  the  angels. 

APOL.  Thou  hast  already  been  unfaithful  in  thy  service  to  him ;  and  how  dost 
thou  think  to  receive  wages  of  him  ? 

CHR.  Wherein,  O  Apollyon,  have  I  been  unfaithful  to  him? 

APOL.  Thou  didst  faint  at  first  setting  out,  when  thou  wast  almost     Apollyon  pleadg 
choked  in  the  gulf  of   Despond.     Thou  didst  attempt  wrong  ways   to  n™aaagainflst 
be  rid  of  thy  burden,  whereas  thou  shouldst  have  stayed  till  thy  Prince  him- 
had  taken  it  off.     Thou  didst  sinfully  sleep,  and  lose  thy  choice  things.     Thou  wast 
almost  persuaded  also  to  go  back  at  the  sight  of  the  lions.     And  when  thou  talkest 


THE  SORE  BA  TTLE  WITH  APOLL  YON. 


103 


Christian 

wounded  in  his  un- 
derstanding,  faith, 
and  conversation. 


of  thy  journey,  and  of  what  thou  hast  seen  and  heard,  thou  art  inwardly  desirous  of 
vainglory  in  all  that  thou  sayest  or  doest. 

CHR.  All  this  is  true,  and  much  more  which  thou  hast  left  out ;  but  the  Prince 

whom   I   serve   and  honor  is  merciful    and   ready  to  forgive.      But  besides,  these 

infirmities  possessed  me  in  thy  country,  for  there  I  sucked  them  in,  and  I  have 

groaned  under  them,  been  sorry  for  them,  and  have  obtained  pardon  of  my  Prince. 

Apoiiyon,  in  Then  Apollyon  broke  out  into  a  grievous  rage,  saying,  "  I  am  an 

rage,    falls    upon  .  . 

Christian.  enemy  to  this  Prince;    I  hate  his  person,  his  laws  and  people:  I  am 

come  out  on  purpose  to  withstand  thee." 

CHR.  Apollyon,  beware  what  you  do,  for  I  am  in  the  King's  highway,  the  way 
of  holiness ;  therefore  take  heed  to  yourself. 

Then  Apollyon  straddled  quite  over  the  whole  breadth  of  the  way,  and  said, 
"  I  am  void  of  fear  in  this  matter.  Prepare  thyself  to  die  ;  for  I  swear  by  my  infernal 
den  that  thou  shalt  go  no  farther:  here  will  I  spill  thy  soul."  And  with,  that  he 
threw  a  flaming  dart  at  his  breast;  but  Christian  had  a  shield  in  his  hand,  with 
which  he  caught  it,  and  so  prevented  the  danger  of  that. 

Then  did  Christian  draw,  for  he  saw  it  was  time  to  bestir  him ;  and  Apollyon  as 
fast  made  at  him,  throwing  darts  as  thick  as  hail ;  by  the  which,  notwithstanding  all 
Christian  could  do  to  avoid  it,  Apollyon  wounded  him  in  his  head, 
hand     and    foot.      This 
Christian  give  a    little 
back;    Apollyon    therefore    followed    his 
work   amain,    and    Christian    again   took 
courage   and   resisted  as  manfully  as   he 
could.     This  sore  combat  lasted  for  above 
half  a  day,  even  till  Christian  was  almost 
quite  spent ;  for  you  must  know  that  Chris- 
tian, by  reason  of  his  wounds,  must  needs 
grow  weaker  and  weaker. 

Then  Apollyon,  espying  his  opportu- 
nity, began  to  gather  up  close  to  Christian, 
and  wrestling  with  him,  gave  him  a  dread- 
ful fall;  and  with  that  Christian's  sword 
flew  out  of  his  hand.  Then  said  Apollyon, 
"I  am  sure  of  thee  now;"  and  with  that 
he  had  almost  pressed  him  to  death,  so 
that  Christian  began  to  despair  of  life. 
But,  as  God  would  have  it,  while  Apollyon 
was  fetching  his  last  blow,  thereby  to 
make  a  full  end  of  this  good  man,  Chris- 
tian nimbly  reached  out  his  hand  for  his 
sword,  and  caught  it,  saying,  "  Rejoice  not 
against  me,  O  mine  enemy :  when  I  fall,  J 


"APOLLYON  SPREAD  FORTH  HIS  DRAGON  WINQS." 


IO4 


PIL G RIM'S  PROGRESS. 


shall  arise,"  Mic.  7:8;  and  with  that  gave  him  a  deadly  thrust,  which  Christian's  vie 
made  him  give  back,  as  one  that  had  received  his  mortal  wound.  Chris-  yon. 
tian  perceiving  that,  made  at  him  again,  saying,  "  Nay,  in  all  these  things  we  are 
more  than  conquerors  through  Him  that  loved  us."  Rom.  8:37.  And  with  that 
Apollyon  spread  forth  his  dragon  wings  and  sped  him  away,  that  Christian  saw  him 
no  more.  James  4 : 7. 

In  this  combat  no  man  can  imagine,  unless  he  had  seen  and  heard,  as  I  did,  what 
yelling  and  hideous  roaring  Apollyon  made  all  the  time  of  the  fight ;  he  spoke  like  a 
dragon :  and  on  the  other  side,  what  sighs  and  groans  burst  from  Christian's  heart.  I 
never  saw  him  all  the  while  give  so  much  as  one  pleasant  look  till  he  perceived  he 
had  wounded  Apollyon  with  his  two-edged  sword;  then,  indeed,  he  did  smile  and 
look  upward.  But  it  was  the  dreadfulest  sight  that  I  ever  saw. 

So  when  the  battle  was  over  Christian  said,  "  I  will  here  give  thanks       Christian  gives 

'  God  thanks  for  his 

to  Him  that  hath  delivered  me  out  of  the  mouth  of  the  lion,  to  Him  that  deliverance. 


did  help  me  against  Apollyon." 


THEREFORE  TO  HIM  LET  ME  GIVE  LASTING  PRAISE. 


And  so  he  did,  saying, 

"  Great  Beelzebub,  the  captain  of  this  fiend, 
Designed  my  ruin  ;  therefore  to  this  end 
He  sent  him  harnessed  out ;  and  he,  with  rage 
That  hellish  was,  clicl  fiercely  me  engage. 
But  blessed  Michael  helped  me,  and  I, 
By  dint  of  sword,  did  quickly  make  him  fly  ; 
Therefore  to  Him  let  me  give  lasting  praise, 
And  thank  and  bless  his  holy  name  always." 

Then  there  came  to  him  a  hand  with 
soine  jjfjtlie-.leayes-^f-the  tree  of  life,  the 
which  Christian .  took  and  applied  to  the 
wounds  that  he  had  received  in  the  battle, 
and  was  healed  immediately.  He  also  sat 
down  in  that  place  to  eat  bread  and  to 
drink  of  the  bottle  that  was  given  him  a 
little  before:  so,  being  refreshed,  he  ad- 
dressed himself  to  his  journey  with  his  sword 
drawn  in  his  hand ;  for  he  said,  "  I  know  not 
but  some  other  enemy  may  be  at  hand." 
But  he  met  with  no  other  affront  from  Apoll- 
yon quite  through  this  valley. 

Now   at    the    end   of   this 
valley  was  another,  called   the  shadow  or  Death, 
valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death; 


The  valley  of  the 
hadow  of  Death. 

and  Chris- 
tian must  needs  go  through  it,  because  the 
way  to  the  Celestial  City  lay  through  the  midst  of  it.  Now  this  valley  is  a  very 
solitary  place.  The  prophet  Jeremiah  thus  describes  it:  "A  wilderness,  a  land  of 
deserts  and  pits,  a  land  of  drought  and  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  a  land  that  no  man.' 
but  a  Christian,  "passeth  through,  and  where  no  man  dwelt."  Jer.  2:60 


THE  SHADOW  OF  DEA  77 f.  105 

Now  here  Christian  was  worse  put  to  it  than  in  his  fight  with  Apollyon,  as  by  the 
sequel  you  shall  see. 

I   saw  then   in   my  dream  that  when    Christian  was  got  to   the   borders  of  the 
The   children  Shadow  of  Death,  there  met  him  two  men,  children  of  them  that  brought 

of  the    spies    go  ^"fe"1 

ba(*-  up  an  evil  report  of  the  good  land,  Num.  13  : 32,  making  haste  to  go  back ; 

to  whom  Christian  spoke  as  follows : 

CHR.  Whither  are  you  going? 

The  men  said,  "  Back,  back ;  and  we  would  have  you  do  so  too,  if  either  life  or 
peace  is  prized  by  you." 

"Why,  what 's  the  matter?"  said  Christian. 

" Matter!"  said  they.  "  We  were  going  that  way  as  you  are  going,  and  went  as  far 
as  we  durst :  and  indeed  we  were  almost  past  coming  back ;  for  had  we  gone  a  little 
farther,  we  had  not  been  here  to  bring  the  news  to  thee." 

"  But  what  have  you  met  with?"  said  Christian. 

MEN.  Why,  we  were  almost  in  the  valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  but  that  by  "good 
hap  we  looked  before  us  and  saw  the  danger  before  we  came- to  it.  Psa.  44 : 19 ;  107 : 19. 

"  But  what  have  you  seen?"  said  Christian. 

MEN.  Seen!  Why,  the  valley  itself,  which  is  as  dark  as  pitch:  we  also  saw  there 
the  hobgoblins,  satyrs,  and  dragons  of  the  pit :  we  heard  also  in  that  valley  a  continual 
howling  and  yelling,  as  of  a  people  under  unutterable  misery,  who  there  sat  bound  in 
affliction  and  irons :  and  over  that  valley  hang  the  discouraging  clouds  of  confusion ; 
Death  also  doth  always  spread  his  wings  over  it.  In  a  word,  it  is  every  whit  dreadful, 
being  utterly  without  order.  Job  3:5;  10:22. 

"  Then,"  said  Christian,  "  I  perceive  not  yet,  by  what  you  have  said,  but  that 
this  is  my  way  to  the  desired  haven."  Psa.  44: 18,  19;  Jer.  2:6. 

MEN.  Be  it  thy  way ;  we  will  not  choose  it  for  ours. 

So  they  parted,  and  Christian  went  on  his  way,  but  still  with  his  sword  drawn  in 
his  hand,  for  fear  lest  he  should  be  assaulted. 

I  saw  then  in  my  dream,  so  far  as  this  valley  reached,  there  was  on  the  right 
hand  a  very  deep  ditch ;  that  ditch  is  it  into  which  the  blind  have  led  the  blind  in 
all  ages,  and  have  both  there  miserably  perished.  Again,  behold,  on  the  left  hand 
there  was  a 'very  dangerous  quag,  into  which,  if  even  a  good  man  falls,  he  finds  no 
bottom  for  his  foot  to  stand  on :  into  that  quag  king  David  once  did  fall,  and  had  no 
doubt  therein  been  smothered,  had  not  He  that  is  able  plucked -him  out.  Psa.  69: 14. 

The  pathway  was  here  also  exceeding  narrow,  and  therefore  good  Christian  was 
the  more  put  to  it ;  for  when  he  sought  in  the  dark  to  shun  the  ditch  on  the  one  hand, 
he  was  ready  to  tip  over  into  the  mire  on  the  other ;  also  when  he  sought  to  escape 
the  mire,  without  great  carefulness  he  would  be  ready  to  fall  into  the  ditch.  Thus  he 
went  on,  and  I  heard  him  here  sigh  bitterly ;  for  besides  the  danger  mentioned  above, 
the  pathway  was  here  so  dark  that  ofttimes,  when  he  lifted  up  his  foot  to  go  for- 
ward, he  knew  not  where  or  upon  what  he  should  set  it  next. 

About  the  midst  of  this  valley  I  perceived  the  mouth  of  hell  to  be,  and  it  stood 
also  hard~l3y  the  wayside.  "Now,"  thought  Christian,  "what  shall  I  do?"  And  ever 


io6 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


and  anon  the  flame  and  smoke  would  come  out  in  such  abundance,  with  sparks  and 
hideous  noises  (things  that  cared  not  for  Christian's  sword,  as  did  Apollyon  before), 
that  he  was  forced  to  put  up  his  sword  and  betake  himself  to  another  weapon  called 
All-prayer,  Eph.  6:  18;  so  he  cried,  in  my  hearing,  "O  Lord,  I  beseech  thee,  deliver 
my  souTr  Psa.  116:4.  Thus  he  went  on  a  great  while,  yet  still  the  flames  would 

be  reaching  towards  him  ;  also  he  heard 
doleful  voices,  and  rushings  to  and  fro,  so 
that  sometimes  he  thought  he  should  be 
torn  in  pieces  or  trodden  down  like  mire  in 
the  street.  This  frightful  sight  was  seen 
and  these  dreadful  noises  were  heard  by 
him  for  several  miles  together;  and  coming 
to  a  place  where  he  thought  he  heard  a 
company  of  fiends  coming  forward  to  meet 
him,  he  stopped  and  began  to  muse  what 
he  had  best  to  do.  Sometimes  cimstian  put 

to  ;i   stand   for  a 

he  had  half  a  thought  to  go  while. 
back  ;  then,  again,  he  thought  he  might  be 
halfway  through  the  valley.  He  remem- 
bered also  how  he  had  already  vanquished 
many  a  danger,  and  that  the  danger  of 
going  back  might  be  much  more  than  for 
to  go  forward.  So  he  resolved  to  go  on  ; 
yet  the  fiends  seemed  to  come  nearer  and 
nearer.  But  when  they  were  come  even 
almost  at  him,  he  cried  out  with  a  most  ve- 
hement voice,  "  I  will  walk  in  the  strength 
of  the  Lord  God."  So  they  gave  back,  and 

"  A  COMPANY  OK  FIENDS  COMING  FORWARD  TO  MEET  HIM."  CB.TC\.Q    UO    farther. 

One  thing  I  would  not  let  slip.     I  took 

notice  that  now  poor  Christian  was  so  confounded  that  he  did  not  know  his  own 
voice  ;  and  thus  I  perceived  it.  Just  when  he  was  come  over  against  the  mouth  of 
the  burning  pit,  one  of  the  wicked  ones  got  behind  him  and  stepped  up  softly  to 
him.  and  whisperingly  suggested  many  grievous  blasphemies  to  him,  •'  Christy  made 
which  he  verily  thought  had  proceeded  from  his  own  mind.  This  put  he^ 
Christian  more  to  it  than  anything  he  had  met  with  before,  even  to  think  sat. 
that  he  should  now  blaspheme  Him  that  he  loved  so  much  before.  Yet  *is  mind- 
if  he  could  have  helped  it  he  would  not  have  done  it  ;  but  he  had  not  the  discretion 
either  to  stop  his  ears  or  to  know  from  whence  these  blasphemies  came. 

When  Christian  had  travelled  in  this  disconsolate  condition  some  considerable 
time,  he  thought  he  heard  the  voice  of  a  man,  as  going  before  him,  saying,  "  Though  I 
walk  through  the  valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  I  will  fear  no  evil,  for  Thou  art  with 
me."  Psa.  23  :  4. 


I o8  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

Then  was  he  glad,  and  that  for  these  reasons : 

First,  because  he  gathered  from  thence  that  some  who  feared  God  were  in  this 
valley  as  well  as  himself. 

Secondly,  for  that  he  perceived  God  was  with  them,  though  in  that  dark  and 
dismal  state.  "And  why  not,"  thought  he,  "with  me?  though,  by  reason  of  the 
impediment  that  attends  this  place,  I  cannot  perceive  it."  Job.  9:11. 

Thirdly,  for  that  he  hoped,  could  he  overtake  them,  to  have  company  by-and-by. 
So  he  went  on,  and  called  to  him  that  was  before ;  but  he  knew  not  what  to  answer, 
for  that  he  also  thought  himself  to  be  alone.  And  by-and-by  the  day  broke ;  then  said 
Christian,  "  He  hath  turned  the  shadow  of  death  into  the  morning."  ChriStjan  giad 

AmOS  5:  8.  at  break  of  day. 

Now  morning  being  come,  he  looked  back,  not  out  of  desire  to  return,  but  to  see, 
by  the  light  of  the  day,  what  hazards  he  had  gone  through  in  the  dark.  So  he  saw 
more  perfectly  the  ditch  that  was  on  the  one  hand  and  the  quag  that  was  on  the 
other ;  also  how  narrow  the  way  was  which  led  between  them  both.  Also  now  he  saw 
the  hobgoblins  and  satyrs  and  dragons  of  the  pit,  but  all  afar  off ;  for  after  break  of 
day  they  came  not  nigh ;  yet  they  were  discovered  to  him,  according  to  that  which  is 
written,  "  He  discovereth  deep  things  out  of  darkness,  and  bringeth  out  to  light  the 
shadow  of  death."  Job  12:22. 

Now  was  Christian  much  affected  with  this  deliverance  from  all  the  dangers  ot 
his  solitary  way;  which  dangers,  though  he  feared  them  much  before,  yet  he  saw 
them  more  clearly  now,  because  the  light  of  the  day  made  them  conspicuous  to  him. 
And  about  this  time  the  sun  was  rising,  and  this  was  another  mercy  to  Christian ;  for 
you  must  note  that,  though  the  first  part  of  the  valley  of  the  Shadow  of  The  second  par 
Death  was  dangerous,  yet  this  second  part,  which  he  was  yet  to  go,  was,  dangerous, 
if  possible,  far  more  dangerous ;  for,  from  the  place  where  he  now  stood,  even  to  the 
end  of  the  valley,  the  way  was  all  along  set  so  full  of  snares,  traps,  gins,  and  nets 
here,  and  so  full  of  pits,  pitfalls,  deep  holes,  and  shelvings-down  there,  that  had  it 
now  been  dark,  as  it  was  when  he  came  the  first  part  of  the  way,  had  he  had  a  thou- 
sand souls,  they  had  in  reason  been  cast  away ;  but,  as  I  said,  just  now  the  sun  was 
rising.  Then  said  he,  "  His  candle  shineth  on  my  head,  and  by  his  light  I  go  through 
darkness."  Job  29 : 3. 

In  this  light,  therefore,  he  came  to  the  end  of  the  valley.  Now  I  saw  in  my 
dream  that  at  the  end  of  the  valley  lay  blood,  bones,  ashes,  and  mangled  bodies  of 
men,  even  of  pilgrims  that  had  gone  this  way  formerly ;  and  while  I  was  musing  what 
should  be  the  reason,  I  espied  a  little  before  me  a  cave,  where  two  giants,  TWO  ancient  en- 

~    -  emies  of  Christ's 

Pope  and  Pagan,  dwelt  in  old  times;  by  whose  power  and  tyranny  the  pilgrims, 
men  whose  bones,  blood,  ashes,  etc.,  lay  there  were  cruelly  put  to  death.  But  by  this 
place  Christian  went  without  much  danger,  whereat  I  somewhat  wondered;  but  I 
have  learnt  since  that  Pagan  has  been  dead  many  a  day ;  and  as  for  the  other,  though 
he  be  yet  alive,  he  is,  by  reason  of  age,  and  also  of  the  many  shrewd  brushes  that 
he  met  with  in  his  younger  days,  grown  so  crazy  and  stiff  in  his  joints  that  he  can 
now  do  little  more  than  sit  in  his  cave's  mouth,  grinning  at  pilgrims  as  they  go  by, 


CHRISTIAN'S  SONG  OF  THANKSGIVING. 


109 


and  biting  his  nails  because  he  cannot 
come  at  them. 

So  I  saw  that  Christian  went  on  his 
way ;  yet,  at  the  sight  of  the  old  man  that 
sat  at  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  he  could  not 
tell  what  to  think,  especially  because  he 
spoke  to  him,  though  he  could  not  go 
after  him,  saying,  "  You  will  never  mend 
till  more  of  you  be  burned."  But  he  held 
his  peace  and  set  a  good  face  on  it;  and 
so  went  by,  and  catched  no  hurt. 

Then  sang  Christian, 

"Oh,  world  of  wonders — I  can  say  no  less — 
That  I  should  be  preserved  in  that  distress 
That  I  have  met  with  here  !  Oh,  blessed  be 
That  hand  that  from  it  hath  delivered  me! 
Dangers  in  darkness,  devils,  hell,  and  sin, 
Did  compass  me,  while  I  this  vale  was  in; 
Yea,  snares  and  pits  and  traps  and  nets  did  lie 
My  path  about,  that  worthless,  silly  I 
Might  have  been  catched,  entangled,  and  cast 

down; 
But  since  I  live,  let  Jesus  wear  the  crown." 


"  HK  CAN    DO  LITTLE  MORE  THAN  SIT  IN  HIS  CAVE'S  MOUTH." 


i io  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


THE  FIFTH  STAGE. 

Now,  as  Christian  went  on  his  way,  he  came  to  a  little  ascent  which  was  cast 
ap  on  purpose  that  pilgrims  might  see  before  them :  up  there,  therefore,  Christian 
went ;  and  looking  forward,  he  saw  Faithful  before  him  on  his  journey.  Then  said 
Christian  aloud,  "Ho,  ho!  soho!  stay,  and  I  will  be  your  companion."  At  that 
Faithful  looked  behind  him;  to  whom  Christian  cried  again,  "Stay,  stay,  till  I  come 
up  to  you."  But  Faithful  answered,  "  No,  I  am  upon  my  life,  and  the  avenger  of 
blood  is  behind  me." 

At  this  Christian  was  somewhat  moved,  and  putting  to  all  his  strength,  he  qtiickly 
got  up  with  Faithful,  and  did  also  overrun  him;   so  the  last  was  first.        nmsthm over- 
Then  did  Christian  vaingloriously  smile,  because  he  had  gotten  the  start   t:lkes  Fllilllful- 
of  his  brother;  but  not  taking  good  heed  to  his  feet,  he  suddenly  stumbled  and  fell, 
and  could  not  rise  again  until  Faithful  came  up  to  help  him. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream  they  went  very  lovingly  on  together,  and  had  sweet 
discourse  of  all  things  that  had  happened  to  them  in  their  pilgrimage ;  and  thus 
Christian  began  : 

CHR.  My  honored  and  well-beloved  brother  Faithful,  I  am  glad  that  I  have 
overtaken  you,  and  that  God  has  so  tempered  our  spirits  that  we  can  walk  as  com- 
panions in  this  so  pleasant  a  path. 

FAITH.  I  had  thought,  my  dear  friend,  to  have  had  your  company  quite  from 
our  town,  but  you  did  get  the  start  of  me  ;  wherefore  I  was  forced  to  come  thus  much 
of  the  way  alone. 

CHR.  How  long  did  you  stay  in  the  city  of  Destruction  before  you  set  out  after 
me  on  your  pilgrimage  ? 

FAITH.  Till  I  could  stay  no  longer ;  for  there  was  a  great  talk  presently  after  you 
were  gone  out  that  our  city  would,  in  a  short  time,  with  fire  from  heaven  Tiieir  talk  about 

tlie  country   from 
be  burnt  down  to  the  ground.  \vliencetlieycame. 

CHR.  What,  did  the  neighbors  talk  so? 

FAITH.  Yes,  it  was  for  a  while  in  everybody's  mouth. 

CHR.  What,  and  did  no  more  of  them  but  you  come  put  to  escape  the  danger? 

FAITH.  Though  there  was,  as  I  said,  a  great  talk  thereabout,  yet  I  do  not  think 
they  did  firmly  believe  it;  for  in  the  heat  of  the  discourse  I  heard  some  of  them 
deridingly  speak  of  you  and  of  your  desperate  journey,  for  so  they  called  this  your 
pilgrimage.  But  I  did  believe,  and  do  still,  that  the  end  of  our  city  will  be  with 
fire  and  brimstone  from  above ;  and  therefore  I  have  made  my  escape. 

CHR.  Did  you  hear  no  talk  of  neighbor  Pliable  ? 

FAITH.  Yes,  Christian,  I  heard  that  he  followed  you  till  he  came  to  the  slough  of 
Despond,  where,  as  some  said,  he  fell  in ;  but  he  would  not  be  known  to  have  so  done  ; 
but  I  am  sure  he  was  soundly  bedabbled  with  that  kind  of  dirt. 


"HE  COULD  NOT  RISE  AGAIN  UNTIL  FAITHFUL  CAME  UP  TO  HELP  HIM." 


ii2  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

CHR.  And  what  said  the  neighbors  to  him  ? 

FAITH.  He  hath,  since  his  going  back,  been  had  greatly  in  derision,  and  thai 
among  all  sorts  of  people  ;  some  do  mock  and  despise  him,  and  scarce  How  Pliabl( 
will  any  set  aim  on  work.  He  is  now  seven  times  worse  than  if  he  had  whenaccTeme(1got 
never  gone  out  of  the  city. 

CHR.  But  why  should  they  be  so  set  against  him,  since  they  also  despise  the  way 
that  he  forsook  ? 

FAITH.  Oh,  they  say,  "  Hang  him ;  he  is  a  turncoat ;  he  was  not  true  to  his 
profession !"  I  think  God  has  stirred  up  even  His  enemies  to  hiss  at  him  and  make 
him  a  proverb,  because  he  hath  forsaken  the  way.  Jer.  29: 1 8,  19. 

CHR.  Had  you  no  talk  with  him  before  you  came  out? 

FAITH.  I  met  him  once  in  the  streets,  but  he  leered  away  on  the  other  side,  as  one 
ashamed  of  what  he  had  done ;  so  I  spoke  not  to  him. 

CHR.  Well,  at  my  first  setting  out  I  had  hopes  of  that  man  ;  but  now  I  fear  he 
will  perish  in  the  overthrow  of  the  city.  For  it  has  happened  to  him  according  to  the 
true  proverb,  "  The  clog  is  turned  to  his  vomit  again,  and  the  sow  that  was  washed  to 
her  wallowing  in  the  mire."  2  Pet.  2  : 22. 

FAITH.  These  are  my  fears  of  him  too ;  but  who  can  hinder  that  which  will  be  ? 

"Well,  neighbor  Faithful,"  said  Christian,  "let  us  leave  him,  and  talk  of  things 
that  more  immediately  concern  ourselves.  Tell  me  now  what  you  have  met  with 
in  the  way  as  you  came ;  for  I  know  you  have  met  with  some  things,  or  else  it  may  be 
writ  for  a  wonder." 

FAITH.  I  escaped  the  slough  that  I  perceived  you  fell  into,  and  got  up  to  the  gate 
without  that  danger ;  only  I  met  with  one  whose  name  was  Wanton,  who  Faithful  as- 

J  saultcd    by    Wan- 

had  like  to  have  done  me  mischief.  ton. 

CHR.  It  was  well  you  escaped  her  net :  Joseph  was  hard  put  to  it  by  her,  and 
he  escaped  her  as  you  did;  but  it  had  like  to  have  cost  him  his  life.  Gen.  39:  11-13. 
But  what  did  she  do  to  you  ? 

FAITH.  You  cannot  think  (but  that  you  know  something)  what  a  flattering 
*  tongue  she  had ;  she  lay  at  me  hard  to  turn  aside  with  her,  promising  me  all  manner 
of  content. 

CHR.  Nay,  she_did  not  promise  you  the  content  of  a  good  conscience. 

FAITH.  You  know  that  I  mean  all  c.anial  and  .fleshly^  content,-,  _ 

CHR.  Thank  God  that  you  escaped  her :  the  abhorred  of  the  Lord  shall  fall  into 
her  pit.  Prov.  22  :  14. 

FAITH.  Nay,  I  know  not  whether  I  did  wholly  escape  her  or  no. 

CHR.  Why,  I  trow  you  did  not  consent  to  her  desires. 

FAITH.  No,  not  to  defile  myself;  for  I  remembered  an  old  writing  that  I  had 
seen,  which  said,  "  Her  steps  take  hold  on  hell."  Prov.  5:5.  So  I  shut  mine  eyes, 
because  I  would  not  be  bewitched  with  her  looks.  Job.  31:1.  Then  she  railed  on 
me,  and  I  went  my  way. 

CHR.  Did  you  meet  with  no  other  assault  as  you  came  ? 

FAITH.  When  I  came  to  the  foot  of   the   hill   called   Difficulty,  I   met  with  a 


ADAM  THE  FIRST  TEMPTS  FAITHFUL.  113 

Faithful  was  very  aged  man,  who  asked  me  what  I  was  and  whither  bound      I  told 

assaulted  by  Adam    .  . 

tue  First.  him  that  I  was  a  pilgrim,  going  to  the  Celestial  City.  Then  said  the 

old.  man,  "  Thou  lookest  like  an  honest  fellow.  Wilt  thou  be  content  to  dwell  with 
me  for  the  wages  that  I  shall  give  thee?"  Then  I  asked  his  name  and  where  he 
dwelt.  He  said  his  name  was  Adam  the  First,  and  that  he  dwelt  in  the  town  of 
Deceit.  Eph.  4:22.  I  asked  him  then  what  was  his  work,  and  what  the  wages  that 
he  would  give.  He  told  me  that  his  work  was  many  delights ;  and  his  wages,  that 
I  should  be  his  heir  at  last.  I  further  asked  him  what  house  he  kept  and  what 
other  servants  he  had.  So  he  told  me  that  his  house  was  maintained  with  all  the 
dainties  of  the  world,  and  that  his  servants  were  those  of  his  own  begetting.  Then 
I  asked  how  many  children  he  had.  He  said  that  he  had  but  three  daughters,  the 
Lust  of  the  Flesh,  the  Lust  of  the  Eyes,  and  the  Pride  of  Life,  i  John  2:  16;  and 
that  I  should  marry  them  if  I  would.  Then  I  asked  how  long  time  he  would  have 
me  live  with  him  ;  and  he  told  me  as  long  as  he  lived  himself. 

CIIR.  Well,  and  what  conclusion  came  the  old  man  and  you  to  at  last? 

FAITH.  Why,  at  first  I  found  myself  somewhat  inclinable  to  go  with  the  man, 
for  I  thought  he  spoke  very  fair ;  but  looking  in  his  forehead  as  I  talked  with  him, 
I  saw  there  written,  "  Put  off  the  old  man  with  his  deeds." 

CIIR.  And  how  then  ? 

FAITH.  Then  it  came  burning  hot  into  my  mind  that,  whatever  he  said  and 
however  he  flattered,  when  he  got  me  home  to  his  house  he  would  sell  me  for  a 
slave.  So  I  bid  him  forbear  to  talk,  for  I  would  not  come  near  the  door  of  his  house. 
Then  he  reviled  me,  and  told  me  that  he  would  send  such  a  one  after  me  that  should 
make  my  way  bitter  to  my  soul.  So  I  turned  to  go  away  from  him ;  but  just  as  I 
turned  myself  to  go  thence,  I  felt  him  take  hold  of  my  flesh,  and  give  me  such 
a  deadly  twitch  back  that  I  thought  he  had  pulled  part  of  me  after  himself:  this 
'made  me  cry,  "  Oh,  wretched  man !"  Rom.  7  :  24.  So  I  went  on  my  way  up  the  hilL 

Now,  when  I  had  got  about  half  way  up,  I  looked  behind  me,  and  saw  one 
coming  after  me,  swift  as  the  wind ;  so  he  overtook  me  just  about  the  place  w  aere 
the  settle  stands. 

"Just  there,"  said  Christian,  "did  I  sit  down  to  rest  me;  but  being  overcome 
with  sleep,  I  there  lost  this  roll  out  of  my  bosom." 

FAITH.  But,  good  brother,  hear  me  out.  So  soon  as  the  man  overtook  me,  it- 
was  but  a  word  and  a  blow ;  for  down  he  knocked  me,  and  laid  me  for  dead.  But 
when  I  was  a  little  come  to  myself  again,  I  asked  him  wherefore  he  served  me  so, 
He  said,  because  of  my  secret  inclining  to  Adam  the  First.  And  with  that  he  struck 
me  another  deadly  blow  on  the  breast  and  beat  me  down  backward ;  so  I  lay  at 
his  feet  as  dead  as  before.  So  when  I  came  to  myself  again,  I  cried  him  mercy: 
but  he  said,  "I  know  not  how  to  show  mercy;"  and  with  that  he  knocked  me  down 
again.  He  had  doubtless  made  an  end  of  me,  but  that  One  came  by  and  bid  him 
forbear. 

CIIR.  Who  was  that  that  bid  him  forbear  ? 

FAITH.  I  did  not  know  him  at  first :  but  as  he  went  by  I  perceived  the  holes 

15 


114 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


in  his  hands  and  in  his  side ;  then  I  concluded  that  he  was  our  Lord.     So  I  went 
up  the  hill. 

CHR.  That  man  that  overtook  you  was  Moses.  He  spareth  none;  The  temper  of 
neither  knoweth  he  how  to  show  mercy  to  those  that  transgress  the  law.  Moses- 

FAITH.  I  know  it  very  well :  it  was  not  the  first  time  he  has  met  with  me.  'T  was 
he  who  came  to  me  when  I  dwelt  securely  at  home  and  that  told  me  that  he  would 
burn  my  house  over  my  head  if  I  stayed  there. 

CHR.  But  did  you  not  see  the  house  that  stood  there  on  the  top  of  the  hill,  on 
the  side  of  which  Moses  met  you  ? 

FAITH.  Yes,  and  the  lions  too,  before  I  came  at  it.  But  for  the  lions,  I  think  they 
were  asleep,  for  it  was  about  noon  ;  and  because  I  had  so  much  of  the  day  before  me, 
I  passed  by  the  porter  and  came  down  the  hill. 

CHR.  He  told  me,  indeed,  that  he  saw  you  go  by ;  but  I  wish  that  you  had  called 
at  the  house,  for  they  would  have  showed  you  so  many  rarities  that  you  would  scarce 
have  forgot  them  to  the  day  of  your  death.  But  pray  tell  me,  did  you  meet  nobody 

in  the  valley  of  Humility  ? 

FAITH.  Yes,  I  met  with  one          Fattiifui  as- 

saulted     by     l)is- 

Discontent  who  would  willingly  content, 
have  persuaded  me  to  go  back  again  with 
him :  his  reason  was,  for  that  the  valley  was 
altogether  without  honor.  He  told  me, 
moreover,  that  to  go  there  was  the  way  to 
disoblige  all  my  friends,  as  Pride,  Arrogancy, 
Self-Conceit,  Worldly  Glory,  with  others  who 
he  knew,  as  he  said,  would  be  very  much 
offended  if  I  made  such  a  fool  of  myself  as 
to  wade  through  this  valley. 

CHR.  Well,  and  how  did  you  answer 
him? 

FAITH.  I  told  him  that  although  all 
these  that  he  named  might  claim  a  kindred 
of  me  (for  indeed  they  were  my  relations 
according  to  the  flesh),  yet  since  I  have  be- 
come a  pilgrim  they  have  disowned  me  and 
I  also  have  rejected  them ;  and  therefore 
they  were  to  me  now  no  more  than  if  they 
had  never  been  of  my  lineage.  I  told  him, 
moreover,  that  as  to  this  valley,  he  had  quite 
misrepresented  the  thing ;  for  before  honor 

is  humility,  and  a  haughty  spirit  before  a  fall.     "  Therefore,"  said  I,  "  I  had  rather  go 
through  this  valley  to  the  honor  that  was  so  accounted  by  the  wisest,  than  choose  that 
which  he  esteemed  most  worthy  of  our  affections." 
CHR.  Met  you  with  nothing  else  in  that  valley  ? 


DISCONTENT. 


ii6  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

FAITH.  Yes,  I  met  with  Shame;  but  of  all  the  men  that  I  met  with     He  is  assaulte(, 
on  my  pilgrimage,  he,  I  think,  bears  the  wrong  name.    The  others  would  by  SUame- 
be  said  nay  after  a  little  argumentation  and  somewhat  else ;  but  this  bold-faced  Shame 
would  never  have  done. 

CiiR.  Why,  what  did  he  say  to  you? 

FAITH.  What !  Why,  he  objected  against  religion  itself.  He  said  it  was  a  pitiful, 
low,  sneaking  business  for  a  man  to  mind  religion.  He  said  that  a  tender  conscience 
was  an  unmanly  thing ;  and  that  for  a  man  to  watch  over  his  words  and  ways  so 
as  to  tie  himself  up  from  that  hectoring  liberty  that  the  brave  spirits  of  the  times 
accustom  themselves  unto,  would  make  him  the  ridicule  of  the  times.  He  objected 
also  that  but  few  of  the  mighty,  rich,  or  wise  were  ever  of  my  opinion — nor  any  of 
them,  neither,  before  they  were  persuaded  to  be  fools,  and  to  be  of  a  voluntary  fond- 
ness to  venture  the  loss  of  all  for  nobody  knows  what.  i  Cor.  i  :  26 ;  3:18; 
Phil.  3  :  7-9 ;  John  7 : 48.  He,  moreover,  objected  the  base  and  low  estate  and  con- 
dition of  those  that  were  chiefly  the  pilgrims  of  the  times  in  which  they  lived  ;  also 
their  ignorance  and  want  of  understanding  in  all  natural  science.  Yea,  he  did  hold 
me  to  it  at  that  rate  also  about  a  great  many  more  things  than  here  I  relate ;  as, 
that  it  was  a  shame  to  sit  whining  and  mourning  under  a  sermon,  and  a  shame  to 
come  sighing  and  groaning  home ;  that  it  was  a  shame  to  ask  my  neighbor  forgive- 
ness for  petty  faults,  or  to  make  restitution  where  I  have  taken  from  any.  He  said 
also  that  religion  made  a  man  grow  strange  to  the  great  because  of  a  few  vices,  which 
he  called  by  finer  names,  and  made  him  own  and  respect  the  base  because  of  the 
same  religious  fraternity ;  "  and  is  not  this,"  said  he,  "  a  shame  ?" 

CIIR.  And  what  did  you  say  to  him  ? 

FAITH.  Say?  I  could  not  tell  what  to  say  at  first.  Yea,  he  put  me  .so  to  it  that 
my  blood  came  up  in  my  face ;  even  this  Shame  fetched  it  up  and  had  almost  beat 
me  quite  off.  But  at  last  I  began  to  consider  that  that  which  is  highly  esteemed 
among  men  is  abomination  in  the  sight  of  God.  Luke  16:  15.  And  I  thought  again, 
"  This  Shame  tells  me  what  men  are,  but  he  tells  me  nothing  what  God  or  the  Word 
of  God  is."  And  I  thought,  moreover,  that  at  the  day  of  doom  we  shall  not  be  doomed 
to  death  or  life  according  to  the  hectoring  spirits  of  the  world,  but  according  to  the 
wisdom  and  law  of  the  Highest.  "  Therefore,"  thought  I,  "what  God  says  is  best 
is  indeed  best,  though  all  the  men  in  the  world  are  against  it.  Seeing,  then,  that 
God  prefers  his  religion ;  seeing  God  prefers  a  tender  conscience ;  seeing  they  that 
make  themselves  fools  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven  are  wisest,  and  that  the  poor  man 
that  loveth  Christ  is  richer  than  the  greatest  man  in  the  world  that  hates  him,  Shame, 
depart;  thou  art  an  enemy  to  my  salvation.  Shall  I  entertain  thee  against  my 
sovereign  Lord  ?  How  then  shall  I  look  him  in  the  face  at  his  coming  ?  Mark  8  :  38. 
Should  I  now  be  ashamed  of  his  ways  and  his  servants,  how  can  I  expect  the  blessing  ?" 
But  indeed  this  Shame  was  a  bold  villain  ;  I  could  scarcely  shake  him  out  of  my 
company ;  yea,  he  would  be  haunting  of  me  and  continually  whispering  me  in  the 
ear  with  some  one  or  other  of  the  infirmities  that  attend  religion.  But  at  last  I 
told  him  that  it  was  but  in  vain  to  attempt  further  in  this  "business,  for  those  things 


FAITHFUL  MEETS  TALKATIVE.  n; 

that  he  disdained,  in  those  did  I  see  most  glory ;  and  so  at  last  I  got  past  this  impor 
ttmate  one.     And  when  I  had  shaken  him  off  then  I  began  to  sing, 

"  The  trials  that  those  men  do  meet  withal 
That  are  obedient  to  the  heavenly  call, 
Are  manifold  and  suited  to  the  flesh, 
And  come  and  come  and  come  again  afresh, 
That  now,  or  some  time  else,  we  by  them  may 
Be  taken,  overcome,  and  cast  away. 
Oh,  let  the  pilgrims,  let  the  pilgrims  then 
Be  vigilant,  and  quit  themselves  like  men." 

CIIR.  I  am  glad,  my  brother,  that  thou  didst  withstand  this  villain  so  bravely,  for 
of  all,  as  thou  sayest,  I  think  he  has  the  wrong  name ;  for  he  is  so  bold  as  to  follow 
us  in  the  streets  and  to  attempt,  to  put  us  to  shame  before  all  men ;  that  is,  to  make 
us  ashamed  of  that  which  is  good.  But  if  he  was  not  himself  audacious  he  would 
never  attempt  to  do  as  he  does.  But  let  us  still  resist  him ;  for,  notwithstanding  all 
his  bravadoes,  he  promoteth  the  fool  and  none  else.  "  The  wise  shall  inherit  glory," 
said  Solomon  ;  "  but  shame  shall  be  the  promotion  of  fools."  Prov.  3 :  35. 

FAITH.  I  think  that  we  must  cry  to  Him,  for  help  against  Shame,  that  would  have 
us  to  be  valiant  for  truth  upon  the  earth. 

CHR.  You  say  true ;  but  did  you  meet  nobody  else  in  that  valley? 

FAITH.  No,  not  I ;  for  I  had  sunshine  all  the  rest  of  the  way  through  that,  and 
also  through  the  valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death. 

CHR.  'Twas  well  for  you  ;  I  am  sure  it  fared  far  otherwise  with  me.  I  had  for  a 
long  season,  as  soon  almost  as  I  entered  into  that  valley,  a  dreadful  combat  with  that 
foul  fiend  Apollyon ;  yea,  I  thought  verily  that  he  would  have  killed  me,  especially 
when  he  got  me  down  and  crushed  me  under  him  as  if  he  would  have  crushed  me  to 
pieces ;  for  as  he  threw  me,  my  sword  flew  out  of  my  hand :  nay,  he  told  me  that 
he  was  sure  of  me ;  but  I  cried  to  God,  and  he  heard  me  and  delivered  me  out  of 
all  my  troubles.  Then  I  entered  into  the  valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death  and  had 
no  light  for  almost  half  the  way  through  it.  I  thought  I  should  have  been  killed 
there  over  and  over ;  but  at  last  day  broke  and  the  sun  rose,  and  I  went  through  that 
which  was  left  with  far  more  ease  and  quiet. 

Moreover,  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  as  they  went  on,  Faithful,  as  he  chanced  to 

look  on  one  side,  saw  a  man  whose  name  was  Talkative  walking  at  a  distance  beside 

Talkative  cie-  them  ;  for  in  this  place  there  was  room  enough  for  them  all  to  walk. 

He  was  a  tall  man,  and  something  more  comely  at  a  distance  than  at 

hand.     To  this  man  Faithful  addressed  himself  in  this  manner  : 

FAITH.  Friend,  whither  away  ?     Are  you  going  to  the  heavenly  country  ? 

TALK.  I  am  going  to  the  same  place. 

FAITH.  That  is  well ;  then  I  hope  we  shall  have  your  good  company  ? 

TALK.  With  a  very  good  will  will  I  be  your  companion. 

FAITH.  Come  on,  then,  and  let  us  go  together,  and  let  us  spend  our  time  in 
discoursing  of  things  that  are  profitable. 

TALK.  To  talk  of  things  that  are  good  to  me  is  very  acceptable,'  with  you  or  with 


'  A   MAN   WHOSE  NAME  IS   TALKATIVE." 


TALK  A  TIVE  PROMISES  MUCH.  1 19 

any  other;   and  I   am  glad  that  I  have   met  with  those  that  incline  to   so  good  a 
xaikative's  work ;  for,  to  speak  the  truth,  there  are  but  few  who  care  thus  to  spend 

dislike  of  bad  dis-      ... 

course.  their  time  as  they  are  in  their  travels,  but  choose  much  rather  to  be 

speaking  of  things  to  no  profit ;  and  this  hath  been  a  trouble  to  me. 

FAITH.  That  is  indeed  a  thing  to  be  lamented ;  for  what  thing  so  worthy  of  the 
use  of  the  tongue  and  mouth  of  men  on  earth  as  are  the  things  of  the  God  of  heaven  ! 

TALK.  I  like  you  wonderful  well,  for  your  saying  is  full  of  conviction ;  and  I  will 
add,  What  thing  is  so  pleasant  and  what  so  profitable  as  to  talk  of  the  things  of  God  ? 
What  things  so  pleasant?  that  is,  if  a  man  hath  any  delight  in  things  that  are 
wonderful.  For  instance,  if  a  man  doth  delight  to  talk  of  the  history  or  the  mys- 
tery of  things,  or  if  a  man  doth  love  to  talk  of  miracles,  wonders,  or  signs,  where 
shall  he  find  things  recorded  so  delightful  and  so  sweetly  penned  as  in  the  holy 
Scripture  ? 

FAITH.  That  is  true ;  but  to  be  profited  by  such  things  in  our  talk  should  be  our 
chief  design. 

TALK.  That 's  it  that  I  said ;  for  to  talk  of  such  things  is  most  profitable ;  for  by 
so  doing  a  man  may  get  knowledge  of  many  things,  as  of  the  vanity  of  earthly 

Taikative's  things  and  the  benefit  of  things  above.  Thus  in  general;  but  more 
fine  discourse.  particularly  by  this  a  man  may  learn  the  necessity  of  the  new  birth,  the 
insufficiency  of  our  works,  the  need  of  Christ's  righteousness,  etc.  Besides,  by  this 
a  man  may  learn  what  it  is  to  repent,  to  believe,  to  pray,  to  suffer,  or  the  like;  by  this 
also  a  man  may  learn  what  are  the  great  promises  and  consolations  of  the  gospel, 
to  his  own  comfort.  Further,  by  this  a  man  may  learn  to  refute  false  opinions,  to 
vindicate  the  truth,  and  also  to  instruct  the  ignorant. 

FAITH.  All  this  is  true ;  and  glad  am  I  to  hear  these  things  from  you. 

TALK.  Alas,  the  want  of  this  is  the  cause  that  so  few  understand  the  need  of 
Jaith  and  the  necessity  of  a  work  of  grace  in  their  soul  in  order  to  eternal  life,  but 
ignorantly  live  in  the  works  of  the  law,  by  which  a  man  can  by  no  means  obtain  the 
kingdom  of  heaven. 

FAITH.  But,  by  your  leave,  heavenly  knowledge  of  these  is  the  gift  of  God;  no 
man  attaineth  to  them  by  human  industry  or  only  by  the  talk  of  them. 

TALK.  All  this   1   know  very  well;   for  a  man   can   receive  nothing 

Un,  DravG  •» 

except  it  be  given  him  from  heaven:  all  is  of  grace,  not  of  works.  I 
could  give  you  a  hundred  scriptures  for  the  confirmation  of  this. 

"Well,  then,"  said  Faithful,  "what  is  that  one  thing  that  we  shall  at  this  time 
found  our  discourse  upon?" 

TALK.  What  you  will.  I  will  talk  of  things  heavenly,  or  things  earthly ;  things 
on  brave  moral,  or  things  evangelical ;  things  sacred,  or  things  profane ;  things 
Talkative  i '  past>  or  things  to  come ;  things  foreign,  or  things  at  home  ;  things  more 
essential,  or  things  circumstantial ;  provided  that  all  be  done  to  our  profit. 

Now  did  Faithful  begin  to  wonder ;  and  stepping  to  Christian  (for  he  walked  all 
this  while  by  himself),  he  said  to  him,  but  softly,  "  What  a  brave  companion  have  we 
got !  Surely  this  man  will  make  a  very  excellent  pilgrirn." 


120  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

At  this  Christian  modestly  smiled  and  said,  "  This  man  with  whom        Christian  ten 
you  are  so  taken  will  beguile  with  this  tongue  of  his  twenty  of  them  he  was. 
that  know  him  not." 

FAITH.  Do  you  know  him,  then  ? 

CHR.  Know  him  ?     Yes,  better  than  he  knows  himself. 

FAITH.  Pray  what  is  he  ? 

CHR.  His  name  is  Talkative :  he  dwelleth  in  our  town.  I  wonder  you  should  be 
a  stranger  to  him,  only  I  consider  that  our  town  is  large. 

FAITH.  Whose  son  is  he  ?    And  whereabout  doth  he  dwell  ? 

CIIR.  He  is  the  son  of  one  Say-well.  He  dwelt  in  Prating-row ;  and  he  is  known 
to  all  that  are  acquainted  with  him  by  the  name  of  Talkative  of  Prating-row ;  and 
notwithstanding  his  fine  tongue,  he  is  but  a  sorry  fellow. 

FAITH.  Well,  he  seems  to  be  a  very  pretty  man. 

CHR.  That  is  to  them  that  have  not  a  thorough  acquaintance  with  him,  for  he 
is  best  abroad ;  near  home  he  is  ugly  enough.  Your  saying  that  he  is  a  pretty  man 
brings  to  my  mind  what  I  have  observed  in  the  work  of  a  painter  whose  pictures 
show  best  at  a  distance ;  but  very  near,  more  unpleasing. 

FAITH.  But  I  am  ready  to  think  you  do  but  jest,  because  you  smiled. 

CHR.  God  forbid  that  I  should  jest  (though  I  smiled)  in  this  matter,  or  that  I 
should  accuse  any  falsely.  I  will  give  you  a  further  discovery  of  him.  This  man 
is  for  any  company  and  for  any  talk :  as  he  talketh  now  with  you,  so  will  he  talk 
when  he  is  on  the  ale-bench;  and  the  more  drink  he  hath  in  his  crown  the  more 
of  these  things  he  hath  in  his  mouth.  Religion  hath  no  place  in  his  heart  or  house 
or  conversation ;  all  he  hath  lieth  in  his  tongue,  and  his  religion  is  to  make  a  noise 
therewith. 

FAITH.  Say  you  so?    Then  am  I  in  this  man  greatly  deceived. 

CHR.  Deceived!  You  maybe  sure  of  it.  Remember  the  proverb,  Talkative  talks 
"They  say,  and  do  not;"  but  the  kingdom  of  God  is  not  in  word,  but  in  butdoe8not- 
power.  Matt.  23:3;  i  Cor.  4:  20.  He  talketh  of  prayer,  of  repentance,  of  faith,  and 
of  the  new  birth ;  but  he  knows  but  only  to  talk  of  them.  I  have  been  in  his  family 
and  have  observed  him  both  at  home  and  abroad ;  and  I  know  what  I  say  of  him 
is  the  truth.  His  house  is  as  empty  of  religion  as  the  white  of  an  egg  is  of  savor. 
There  is  there  neither  prayer  nor  sign  of  repentance  for  sin ;  yea,  the  brute  in  his 
kind  serves  God  far  better  than  he.  He  is  the  very  stain,  reproach,  and  IIe  ig  a  stain  to 
shame  of  religion  to  all  that  know  him,  Rom.  2:23,  24;  it  can  hardly  rell£ion- 
have  a  good  word  in  all  that  end  of  the  town  where  he  dwells,  through  him.  Thus 
say  the  common  people  that  know  him,  "A  saint  abroad  and  a  devil  at  home."  His 
poor  family  finds  it  so ;  he  is  such  a  churl,  such  a  railer  at,  and  so  unreasonable  with 
his  servants  that  they  neither  know  how  to  do  for  or  speak  to  him.  Men  that  have 
any  dealings  with  him  say  it  is  better  to  deal  with  a  Turk  than  with  him,  Men  shnn  to 
for  fairer  dealings  they  shall  have  at  their  hands.  This  Talkative,  if  it  deal  with  him- 
be  possible,  will  go  beyond  them,  defraud,  beguile,  and  overreach  them.  Besides,  he 
brings  up  his  sons  to  follow  his  steps  ;  and  if  he  finctc  in  any  of  them  a  foolish  timorous 


TALKATIVE 'S  TRUE  CHARACTER.  121 

ness  (for  so  he  calls  the  first  appearance  of  a  tender  conscience),  he  calls  them  fools  and 
blockheads,  and  by  no  means  will  employ  them  in  much,  or  speak  to  their  commenda- 
tion before  others.  For  my  part  I  am  of  opinion  that  he  has,  by  his  wicked  life, 
caused  many  to  stumble  and  fall ;  and  will  be,  if  God  prevents  not,  the  ruin  of 
many  more. 

FAITH.  Well,  my  brother,  I  am  bound  to  believe  you,  not  only  because  you  say 
you  know  him,  but  also  because  like  a  Christian  you  make  your  reports  of  men.  For 
I  cannot  think  that  you  speak  these  things  of  ill-will,  but  because  it  is  even  so  as 
you  say. 

CIIR.  Had  I  known  him  no  more  than  you,  I  might  perhaps  have  thought  of  him 
as  at  the  first  you  did ;  yea,  had  I  received  this  report  at  their  hands  only  that  are 
enemies  to  religion,  I  should  have  thought  it  had  been  a  slander — a  lot  that  often 
falls  from  bad  men's  mouths  upon  good  men's  names  and  professions.  But  all  these 
things,  yea,  and  a  great  many  more  as  bad,  of  my  own  knowledge  I  can  prove  him 
guilty  of.  Besides,  good  men  are  ashamed  of  him ;  they  can  neither  call  him  brother 
nor  friend;  the  very  naming  of  him  among  them  makes  them  blush,  if  they 
know  him. 

FAITH.  Well,  I  see  that  saying  and  doing  arc  two  things,  and  hereafter  I  shall 
better  observe  this  distinction. 

CIIR.  They  are  two  things  indeed,  and  are  as  diverse  as  are  the  soul  and  the 
Tiie  carcass  of  body  ;  for,  as  the  body  without  the  soul  is  but  a  dead  carcass,  so  saying,  if 
it  be  alone,  is  but  a  dead  carcass  also.  The  soul  of  religion  is  the  prac- 
tical part.  "  Pure  religion  and  undefiled  before  God  and  the  Father  is  this,  To  visit 
the  fatherless  and  widows  in  their  affliction,  and  to  keep  himself  unspotted  from  the 
world."  See  Jas.  1:22-27.  This  Talkative  is  not  aware  of:  he  thinks  that  hearing 
and  saying  will  make  a  good  Christian  ;  and  thus  he  deceivath  iis.  own  soul.  Hearing 
is  but  as  the  sowing  of  the  seed ;  talking  is  not  sufficient  to  prove  that  fruit  is  indeed 
in  the  heart  and  life.  And  let  us  assure  ourselves  that  at  the  day  of  doom  men  shall 
be  judged  according  to  their  fruits.  Matt.  13:23.  It  will  not  be  said  then,  Did  you 
believe?  but,  Were  you  doers,  or  talkers  only?  and  accordingly  shall  they  be  judged. 
The  end  of  the  world  is  compared  to  our  harvest,  Matt.  13  :  30,  and  you  know  men  at 
harvest  regard  nothing  but  fruit.  Not  that  anything  can  be  accepted  that  is  not  of 
faith ;  but  I  speak  this  to  show  you  how  insignificant  the  profession  of  Talkative  will 
be  at  that  day. 

FAITH.  This  brings  to  my  mind  that  of  Moses  by  which  he  describeth  the  beast 
that  is  clean.  Lev.  1 1  ;  Deut.  14.  He  is  such  a  one  that  parteth  the  hoof  and  chew- 
eth the  cud  ;  not  that  parteth  the  hoof  only,  or  that  chcweth  the  cud  only.  The  hare 
cheweth  the  cud,  but  yet  is  unclean,  because  he  parteth  not  the  hoof.  And  this  truly 
Faithful  con-  resembleth  Talkative:  he  cheweth  the  cud,  he  seeketh  knowledge;  he 

vinced  of  the  bad-  ,."..,',  ...         ..         ,.        TT  ... 

ness  of  Talkative,  cheweth  upon  the  Word,  but  he  divideth  not  the  hoof.  He  parteth  not 
with  the  way  of  sinners ;  but,  as  the  hare,  he  retaineth  the  foot  of  the  dog  or  bear,  and 
therefore  he  is  unclean. 

CIIR.  You  have  spoken,  for  aught  I  know,  the  true  gospel  sense  of  these  texts. 
16 


122  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

And  I  will  add  another  thing :  Paul  calleth  some  men,  yea,  and  those  great  talkers 
too,  sounding  brass  and  tinkling  cymbals,  i  Cor.  13:1,  3 ;  that  is,  as  he  expounds  them 
in  another  place,  things  without  life  giving  sound,  i  Cor.  14:7.  Things  without  life ; 
that  is,  without  the  true  faith  and  grace  of  the  gospel ;  and  consequently  things  that 
shall  never  be  placed  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven  among  those  that  are  the  children  of 
life  ;  though  their  sound,  by  their  talk,  be  as  if  it  were  the  tongue  or  voice  of  an  angel. 

FAITH.  Well,  I  was  not  so  fond  of  his  company  at  first,  but  I  am  as  sick  of  it  now. 
What  shall  we  do  to  be  rid  of  him  ? 

CHR.  Take  my  advice  and  do  as  I  bid  you,  and  you  shall  find  that  he  will  soon 
be  sick  of  your  company  too,  except  God  shall  touch  his  heart  and  turn  it. 

FAITH.  What  would  you  have  me  to  do  ? 

CHR.  Why,  go  to  him  and  enter  into  some  serious  discourse  about  the  power  of 
religion ;  and  ask  him  plainly  (when  he  has  approved  of  it,  for  that  he  will)  whether 
this  thing  be  set  up  in  his  heart,  house,  or  conversation. 

Then  Faithful  stepped  forward  again  and  said  to  Talkative,  "Come,  what  cheer? 
How  is  it  now  ?" 

TALK.  Thank  you,  well.  I  thought  we  should  have  had  a  great  deal  of  talk  by 
this  time. 

FAITH.  Well,  if  you  will,  we  will  fall  to  it  now;  and  since  you  left  it  with  me  to 
state  the  question,  let  it  be  this :  Hpw_^oJtli _the  savin^_^rj^_oj_^^.,<iiscover  itself 
when  it  is  in  the  heart  of  man  ? 

TALK.  I  perceive  then  that  our  talk  must  be  about  the  power  of  things.     Well,  it 
is  a  very  good  question,  and  I  shall  be  willing  to  answer  you.     And  take     Talkative'*  raise 
my  answer  in  brief,  thus:  First,  where  the  grace  of  God  is  in  the  heart,  work  or  grace. 
it  causeth  there  a  great  outcry  against  sin.     Secondly — 

FAITH.  Nay,  hold  ;  let  us  consider  of  one  at  once.  I  think  you  should  rather  say, 
It  shows  itself  by  inclining  the  soul  to  abhor  its  sin. 

TALK.  Why,  what  difference  is  there  between  crying  out  against  and  abhorring 
of  sin? 

FAITH.  Oh,  a  great  deal.  A  man  may  cry  out  against  sin  of  policy;  but  he 
cannot  abhor  it  but  by  virtue  of  a  godly  antipathy  against  it.  I  have  TO  cry  out 

•  ••  i     M.        i.  -u-j       -i.         11    ^ainst     sin     no 

heard  many  cry  out  against  sin  in  the  pulpit,  who  can  yet  abide  it  well  sign  or  grace. 
enough  in  the  heart,  house,  and  conversation.  Gen.  39:15.  Joseph's  mistress  cried 
out  with  a  loud  voice,  as  if  she  had  been  very  holy;  but  she  would  willingly,  not- 
withstanding that,  have  committed  uncleanness  with  him.  Some  cry  out  against  sin, 
even  as  the  mother  cries  out  against  her  child  in  her  lap  when  she  calleth  it  slut  and 
naughty  girl  and  then  falls  to  hugging  and  kissing  it. 

TALK.  You  lie  at  the  catch,  I  perceive. 

FAITH.  No,  not  I ;  I  am  only  for  setting  things  right.  But  what  is  the  second 
thing  whereby  you  would  prove  a  discovery  of  a  work  of  grace  in  the  heart  ? 

TALK.  Great  knowledge  of  gospel  mysteries. 

FAITH.  This  sign  shoutcr-nave  beeii~nTst:  but  first  or  last,  it  is  also       Great  knowi- 

.  _    ,  ..      edge   no    sign  of 

false ;  for  knowledge,  great  knowledge,  may  be  obtained  in  the  mysteries  grace. 


TRUE  SIGNS  OF  GRACE.  123 

of  the  gospel,  and  yet  no  work  of  grace  in  the  soul.  Yea,  if  a  man  have  all  knowledge 
he  may  yet  be  nothing,  and  so,  consequently,  be  no  child  of  God.  i  Cor.  13:2.  When 
Christ  said,  "  Do  you  know  all  these  things?"  and  the  disciples  had  answered,  Yes,  he 
added,  "  Blessed  are  ye  if  ye  do  them."  He_dotlijnot  lay  the  blessing  in  the  knowing 
of  jhem,Jh>ut  in  thejJQing-nLthem.^  For  there  is  a  knowledge  that  is  not  attended  with 
doing:  "  He  that  knoweth  his  Master's  will  and  doeth  it  not."  A  man  may  know  like 
an  angel,  and  yet  be  no  Christian  ;  therefore  your  sign  of  it  is  not  true.  Indeed,  to 
know  is  a  thing^that  pleaseth  talkers  and  boasters  ;  but  to  do  is  that  which  pleaseth 
God.  Not  that  the  heart  can  be  good  without  knowledge,  for  without  that  the  heart  is 
naught.  There  are  therefore  two  sorts  of  knowledge  —  knowledge  that  resteth  in  the 
bare  speculation  of  things,  and  knowledge  that  is  ^ccompanied.,with  the  grace  of  faith 
True  knowledge  and  love,  which  puts  a  man  upon  doing  even  the  will  of  God  from  the 

attended  with  en-  —  rjr:  -  :;  — 

heart.    The  first  of  these  will  serve  the  talker  ;  but  without  the  other,  the 


true  Christian  is  not  content.  "  Give  me  understanding,  and  I  shall  keep  thy  law  ; 
yea,  I  shall  observe  it  with  my  whole  heart."  Psa.  1  19  :  34. 

TALK.  You  lie  at  the  catch  again  :  this  is  not  for  edification. 

FAITH.  Well,  if  you  please,  propound  another  sign  how  this  work  of  grace  dis- 
covereth  itself  where  it  is. 

TALK.  Not  I,  for  I  see  we  shall  not  agree. 

FAITH.  Well,  if  you  will  not,  will  you  give  me  leave  to  do  it  ? 

TALK.  You  may  use  your  liberty. 

FAITH.  A  work  of  grace  in  the  soul  discovereth  itself,  either  to  him  that  hath  it 
or  to  stand  ers-by. 

To  him  that  hath  it,  thus  :  It  gives  him  conviction  of  sin,  especially  the  defile- 
one  good  sign  ment  ofjiis  nflt1irpi  ^nH  fVl^  sin  of  unbelief,  for  the  sake  of  which  he  is 
sureTto  be  damned  if  he  findeth  not  mercy  at  God's  hand  by__faith  in 
Jesus  Christ.  This  sight  and  sense  of  things"  wofketh  in  him  sorrow  and  shame  for 
sin.  Psa.  38:18;  Jer.  31:19;  Johni6:8;  Rom.  7  :  24  ;  Mark  16:  16;  Gal.  2  :  16;  Rev. 
i  :  6.  He  findeth,  moreover,  revealed  in  him  the  Saviour  of  the  world,  and  the  abso- 
lute necessity  of  closing  with  him  for  life  ;  at  the  which  he  findeth  hungerings  and 
thirstings  after  him,  to  which  hungerings  and  thirstings  the  promise  is  made.  Now 
according  to  the  strength  or  weakness  of  his  faith  in  his  Saviour,  so  is  his  joy  and 
peace,  so  is  his  love  to-  holiness,  so  are  his  desires  to  know  him  more,  and  also  to  serve 
him  in  this  world.  But  though  I  say  it  discovereth  itself  thus  unto  him,  yet  it  is  but 
seldom  that  he  is  able  to  conclude  that  this  is  a  work  of  grace  ;  because  his  cor- 
ruptions now,  and  his  abused  reason,  make  his  mind  to  misjudge  in  this  matter: 
therefore  in  him  that  hath  this  work  there  is  required  a  very  sound  judgment  before 
he  can  with  steadiness  conclude  that  this  is  a  work  of  grace.  John  16:9;  Gal.  2:15,  16; 
Acts  4:12;  Matt.  5:6;  Rev.  21:6. 

To  others  it  is  thus  discovered  : 

i.  By  an  experimental  confession  of  his  faith  in  Christ.  2.  By  a  life  answerable 
to  that  confession  :  to  wit,  a  life  of  holiness  —  heart  holiness,  family  holiness  (if  he  hath 
a  family),  and  by  conversation  holiness  in  the  world  ;  which  in  the  general  teacheth 


124  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

him  inwardly  to  abhor  his  sin  and  himself  for  that,  in  secret,  to  suppress  it  in  his 
family,  and  to  promote  holiness  in  the  world :  not  by  talk  only,  as  a  hypocrite  or  talk- 
ative person  may  do,  but  by  a  practical  subjection  in  faith  and  love  to  the  power  of 
the  Word.  Job  42:5,6;  Psa.  50:23;  Ezek.  20:43;  36:25;  Matt.  5:8;  John  14:15; 
Rom.  10:  10;  Phil,  i  :  27 ;  3:  17-20.  And  now,  sir,  as  to  this  brief  description  of  the 
work  of  grace,  and  also  the  discovery  of  it,  if  you  have  aught  to  object,  object ;  if  not, 
then  give  me  leave  to  propound  to  you  a  second  question. 

TALK.  Nay,  my  part  is  not  now  to  object,  but  to  hear ;  let  me  therefore  have 
your  second  question. 

FAITH.  It  is  this :  Do  you  experience  this  first  part  of  the  description  of  it ;  and 
doth  your  life  and  conversation  testify  the  same  ?  Or_  standeth_your  Another  good 
religion  in  word  or  tongue,  and  not  in  deed  and  truth?  Pray,  if  you  in-  sigu Ol ferrace- 
cline  to  answer  me  in  this,  say  no  more  than  you  know  the  God  above  will  say  Amen 
to,  and  also  nothing  but  what  your  conscience  can  justify  you  in ;  for  not  he  that  com- 
mendeth  himself  is  approved,  but  whom  the  Lord  commendeth.  Besides,  to  say  I  am 
thus  and  thus,  when  my  conversation  and  all  my  neighbors  tell  me  I  lie,  is  great 
wickedness. 

Then  Talkative  at  first  began  to  blush ;  but  recovering  himself,  thus  he  replied : 
"  You  come  now  to  experience,  to  conscience,  and  to  God,  and  to  appeal  to  him  for 
justification  of  what  is  spoken.  This  kind  of  discourse  I  did  not  expect ;  Talkative  not 

-.-..,.  .  -r  pleased  wit.li  FaitH- 

nor  am  I  disposed  to  give  an  answer  to  such  questions,  because  I  count  furs  question, 
not  myself  bound  thereto,  unless  you  take  upon  you  to  be  a  catechizer ;  and  though 
you  should  so  do,  yet  I  may  refuse  to  make  you  my  judge.     But  I  pray,  will  you  tell 
me  why  you  ask  me  such  questions  ?" 

FAITH.  Because  I  saw  you  forward  to  talk,  and  because  I  knew  not  that  you  had 
aught  else  but  notion.  Besides,  to  tell  you  all  the  truth,  I  have  heard  of  you  that  you 
are  a  man  whose  religion  lies  in  talk,  and  that  your  conversation  gives  this  your 
mouth-profession  the  lie.  They  say  you  are  a  spot  among  Christians,  and  that 
religion  fareth  the  worse  for  your  ungodly  conversation ;  that  some  have  already 
stumbled  at  your  wicked  ways,  and  that  more  are  in  danger  of  being  destroyed  there- 
by :  your  religion  and  an  ale-house  and  covetousness  and  uncleanness  and  swearing 
and  lying  and  vain  company  keeping,  etc.,  will  stand  together.  The  proverb  is  true 
of  you  which  is  said  of  a  harlot,  to  wit,  "  That  she  is  a  shame  to  all  women ;"  so  are 
you  a  shame  to  all  professors. 

.    TALK.  Since  you  are  so  ready  to  take  up  reports  and  to  judge  so      Ta,ikative  was 
rashly  as  you  do,  I  cannot  but  conclude  you  are  some  peevish  or  melan-  Faitllful  adieu- 
choly  man,  not  fit  to  be  discoursed  with  ;  and  so  adieu. 

Then  up  came  Christian  and  said  to  his  brother,  "I  told  you  how  it  would 
happen ;  your  words  and  his  lusts  could  not  agree.  He  had  rather  leave  your  com- 
pany than  reform  his  life.  But  he  is  gone,  as  I  said  :  let  him  go  ;  the  loss  is  no  man's 
but  his  own.  He  has  saved  us  the  trouble  of  going  from  him ;  for  he  continuing  (as  1 
suppose  he  will  do)  as  he  is,  would  have  been  but  a  blot  in  our  company ;  besides, 
the  apostle  says,  '  From  such  withdraw  thyself.'  " 


RESULTS  OF  FAITHFUL  DEALING.  125 

FAITH.  But  I  am  glad  we  had  this  little  discourse  with  him  ;  it  may  happen  that 
he  will  think  of  it  again ;  however,  I  have  dealt  plainly  with  him,  and  so  am  clear  of 
his  blood  if  he  perisheth. 

CIIR.  You  did  well  to  talk  so  plainly  to  him  as  you  did.  There  is  but  little  of  this 
faithful  dealing  with  men  now-a-days,  and  that  makes  religion  to  stink  so  in  the  nos- 
trils of  many  as  it  doth ;  for  they  are  these  talkative  fools  whose  religion  is  only  in 
word,  and  who  are  debauched  and  vain  in  their  conversation,  that  (being  so  much 
admitted  into  the  fellowship  of  the  godly)  do  puzzle  the  world,  blemish  Christianity, 
and  grieve  the  sincere.  I  wish  that  all  men  would  deal  with  such  as  you  have  done ; 
then  should  they  either  be  made  more  conformable  to  religion,  or  the  company  of 
iaints  would  be  too  hot  for  them. 

Then  did  Faithful  say, 

"How  Talkative  at  first  lifts  up  his  plumes; 
How  bravely  doth  he  speak  !     How  he  presumes 
To  drive  down  all  before  him  !     But  so  soon 
As  Faithful  talks  of  heart-work,  like  the  moon 
That 's  past  the  full,  into  the  wane  he  goes  ; 
And  so  will  all  but  he  that  heart-work  knows." 

Thus  they  went  on,  talking  of  what  they  had  seen  by  the  way,  and  so  made  that 
way  easy,  which  would  otherwise,  no  doubt,  have  been  tedious  to  them,  for  now  they 
went  through  a  wilderness. 


126  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


THE  SIXTH  STAGE. 

Now  when  they  were  got  almost  quite  out  of  this  wilderness,  Faithful  chanced 
to  cast  his  eye  back  and  espied  one  coming  after  them,  and  he  knew  him.  "Oh,"  said 
Faithful  to  his  brother,  "  who  comes  yonder?" 

Then  Christian  looked  and  said,  "  It  is  my  good  friend  Evangelist." 

"  Ay,  and  my  good  friend  too,"  said  Faithful,  "  for  't  was  he  that  set  me  on  the 

Way  tO  the  gate."  Evangelist  over- 

Now  was  Evangelist  come  up  to  them,  and  thus  saluted  them : 

EVAN.  Peace  be  with  you,  dearly  beloved,  and  peace  be  to  your  helpers. 

CHR.  Welcome,  welcome,  my  good  Evangelist;  the  sight  of  thy  countenance 
brings  to  my  remembrance  thy  ancient  kindness  and  unwearied  labors  for  my  eternal 
good. 

"  And  a  thousand  times  welcome,"  said  good  Faithful,  "  thy  company,  O  sweet 
Evangelist;  how  desirable  is  it  to  us  poor  pilgrims." 

Then  said  Evangelist,  "  How  hath  it  fared  with  you,  my  friends,  since  the  time  of 
our  last  parting?  What  have  you  met  with,  and  how  have  you  behaved  yourselves?" 

Then  Christian  and  Faithful  told  him  of  all  things  that  had  happened  to  them 
in  the  way,  and  how  and  with  what  difficulty  they  had  arrived  to  that  place. 

"Right  glad  am  I,"  said  Evangelist,  "not  that  you  have  met  with  trials,  but 
that  you  have  been  victors,  and  for  that  you  have,  notwithstanding  nis  exhortation 
many  weaknesses,  continued  in  the  way  to  this  very  day. 

"  I  say,  right  glad  am  I  of  this  thing,  and  that  for  mine  own  sake  and  yours. 
I  have  sowed  and  you  have  reaped ;  and  the  day  is  coming  when  '  both  he  that 
soweth  and  they  that  reap  shall  rejoice  together,'  John  4:  36;  that  is,  if  you  hold  out: 
'for  in  due  season  ye  shall  reap,  if  ye  faint  not.'  Gal.  6:  9.  The  crown  is  before  you, 
and  it  is  an  incorruptible  one :  '  so  run  that  ye  may  obtain '  it.  i  Cor.  9 :  24-27.  Some 
there  be  that  set  out  for  this  crown,  and  after  they  have  gone  far  for  it,  another 
comes  in  and  takes  it  from  them :  '  hold  fast,  therefore,  that  you  have ;  let  no  man  take 
your  crown.'  Rev.  3:11.  You  are  not  yet  out  of  the  gunshot  of  the  devil :  '  you  have 
not  resisted  unto  blood  striving  against  sin.'  Let  the  kingdom  be  always  before  you, 
and  believe  steadfastly  concerning  the  things  that  are  invisible.  Let  nothing  that 
is  on  this  side  the  other  world  get  within  you.  And  above  all,  look  well  to  your  own 
hearts  and  to  the  lusts  thereof ;  for  they  are  '  deceitful  above  all  things,  and  desper- 
ately wicked.'  Set  your  faces  like  a  flint ;  you  have  all  power  in  heaven  and  earth  on 
your  side." 

Then    Christian   thanked   him   for  his   exhortations ;  but  told   him      They  do  thank 

.11  -  11-1  -,  •  f  ci-11       h'm  f°r  hi8  exhor- 

withal  that  they  would  have  him  speak  further  to  them  for  their  help  tations. 

the .  rest  of  the  way ;  and  the  rather,  for  that  they  well  knew  that  he  was  a  prophet, 

and  could  tell  them  of  things  that  might  happen  unto  them,  and  also  how  they  might 


THE  Y  RE  A  CH  VANITY  FAIR.  127 

resist  and  overcome  them.     To  which   request  Faithful  also  consented.     So  Evan-v/ 
gelist  began  as  followeth  : 

EVAN.  My  sons,  you  have  heard  in  the  Word  of  the  truth  of  the  gospel  that  you 

He  predicted  must  "  through  many  tribulations  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven ;" 
SuStttovS  and  a£ain' that  " in  every  citY  bonds  and  afflictions  abide  you ;"  and  there- 
couraSh1hemeto  fore  you  cannot  expect  that  you  should  go  long  on  your  pilgrimage 
without  them  in  some  sort  or  other.  You  have  found  something  of  the 
truth  of  these  testimonies  upon  you  already,  and  more  will  immediately  follow ;  for 
now,  as  you  see,  you  are  almost  out  of  this  wilderness,  and  therefore  you  will  soon 
come  into  a  town  that  you  will  by-and-by  see  before  you ;  and  in  that  town  you  will 
be  hardly  beset  with  enemies,  who  will  strain  hard  but  they  will  kill  you ;  and  be 
you  sure  that  one  or  both  of  you  must  seal  the  testimony  which  you  hold  with/" 
blood ;  but  be  you  faithful  unto  death  and  the  King  will  give  you  a  crown  of  life. 
He  that  shall  die  there,  although  his  death  will  be  unnatural  and  his  pain  perhaps 
great,  he  will  yet  have  the  better  of  his  fellow ;  not  only  because  he  will  be  arrived 
at  the  celestial  city  soonest,  but  because  he  will  escape  many  miseries  that  the  other 
will  meet  with  in  the  rest  of  his  journey.  But  when  you  are  come  to  the  town,  and 
shall  find  fulfilled  what  I  have  here  related,  then  remember  your  Friend  and  quit 
yourselves  like  men,  and  commit  the  keeping  of  your  souls  to  God  in  well-doing  as 
unto  a  faithful  Creator. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  when  they  were  got  out  of  the  wilderness  they 
presently  saw  a  town  before  them,  and  the  name  of  that  town  is  Vanity ;  and  at  the 
town  there  is  a  fair  kept,  called  Vanjty_Eair.     It  is  kept  all  the  year  long.     It  beareth  ^  ^ 
the  name  of  Vanity  Fair  because  the  town  where  it  is  kept  is  lighter  than  vanity,  J 
Psa.  62  :  9 ;  and  also  because  all  that  is  there  sold  or  that  cometh  thither  is  vanity ; 
as  is  the   saying  of  the  wise,  "All   that   cometh  is   vanity."      Keel.  n:8;  see  also 
Eccl.  i  :  2-14;  2  :  11-17;  Isa-  4O:  J7- 

The  antiquity          This  fair  is  no  new-erected  business,  but  a  thing  of  ancient  standing. 

of  tills  fair.  j  wm  show  you  the  original  of  it 

Almost  five  thousand  years  ago  there  were  pilgrims  walking  to  the  celestial  city,    -. 
as  these  two  honest  persons  are;  and  Beelzebub,  Appllyoiij  and  Legion,  with  their    *\ 
companions,  perceiving  by  the  path  the  pilgrims  made  that  their  way  to  the  city  lay 
through  this  town  of  Vanity,  they  contrived  here  to  set  up  a  fair,  a  fair  wherein 
slioujclj^sold^all  sorts  of  vanity,  and  that  it  should  last  all  the  year  long.     Therefore 
The  mercimn-  a^  this  ^r  are  a^  such  merchandise  sold  as  houses,  lands,  trades,  places, 
r  tins  fair.      honors,  preferments,  titles,  countries,   kingdoms,   lusts,  pleasures;    and 
delights  of  a'  l  sorts,  as  harlots,  wives,  husbands,  children,  masters,  servants,  lives, 
blood,  bodif   ,  souls,  silver,  gold,  pearls,  precious  stones,  and  what  not. 

And   -    jreover  at  this  fair  there  are  at  all  times  to  be  seen  jugglings,  cheats, 
games,  p'^ays,  fools,  apes,  knaves,  and  rogues,  and  that  of  every  kind. 

H>  /e  are  to  be  seen  too,  and  that  for  nothing,  thefts,  murders,  adulteries,  false- 
sweai*crs,  and  that  of  a  blood-red  color. 

And,  as  in  other  fairs  of  less  moment,  there  are  the  .several  rows  and  streets  under 


A   GREAT  STIR  IN  THE  FAIR.  129 

their  proper  names  where  such  and  such  wares  are  vended ;  so  here,  likewise,  you 
have  the  proper  places,  rows,  streets  (namely,  countries  and  kingdoms)  where  the 
rue  streets  or  wares  °f  tfos_fair_]are  soonest  to  be  found.  Here  is  the  Britain-row,  the 
this  fair.  French-row,  the  Italian-row,  the  Spanish-row,  the  German-row,  where 

several  sorts  of  vanities  are  to  be  sold.  But,  as  in  other  fairs,  some  one  commodity 
is  as  the  chief  of  all  the  fair,  so  the  ware  of  Rome  and  her  merchandise  is  greatly 
promoted  in  this  fair ;  only  our  English  nation,  with  some  others,  have  taken  a  dislike 
thereat. 

Now,  as  I  said,  the  way  to  the  celestial  city  lies  just  through  this  town  where 
this  lusty  fair  is  kept ;  and  he  that  would  go  to  the  city,  and  yet  not  go  through  this 
town,  "must  needs  go  out  of  the  world."  i  Cor.  4:  10.  The  Prince  of  princes  him- 
curist  went  se^»  wnen  here,  went  through  this  town  to  his  own  country,  and  that 
through  this  fair.  11pOn  a  fair-day  too ;  yea,  and  as  I  think,  it  was  Beelzebub,  the  chief 
lord  of  this  fair,  that  invited  him  to  buy  of  his  vanities,  yea,  would  have  made  him 
lord  of  the  fair,  would  he  but  have  done  him  reverence  as  he  went  through  the  town. 
Yea,  because  he  was  such  a  person  of  honor,  Beelzebub  had  him  from  street  to  street 
and  showed  him  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  in  a  little  time,  that  he  might,  if 
possible,  allure  that  blessed  One  to  cheapen  and  buy  some  of  his  vanities ;  but  he  had 
no  mind  to  the  merchandise,  and  therefore  left  the  town  without  so  much  as  laying 
out  one  farthing  upon  these  vanities.  Matt.  4:  1-8;  Luke  4:  5-8.  This  fair,  there- 
fore, is  an  ancient  thing  of  long  standing  and  a  very  great  fair. 

Now  these  pilgrims,  as  I  said,  must  needs  go  through  this  fair.  Well,  so  they 
The  pilgrims  did :  but,  behold,  even  as  they  entered  into  the  fair,  all  the  people  in 
enter  the  fair.  ^e  j  air  were  moved,  and  the  town  itself ,  as  it  were,  in  a  hubbub  about 
them,  and  that  for  several  reasons  :  for, 

First,  the  pilgrims  were  clothed  with  such  kind  of  raiment  as  was  diverse  from 

The  first  cause  tne  raiment  of  any  that  traded  in  that  fair.     The  people,  therefore,  of 

the  fair  made  a  great  gazing  upon  them :  some  said  they  were  fools ; 

some,  they   were    bedlams;    and    some,   they    were    outlandish    men.      Job  12:4; 

i  Cor.  4  :  9. 

Secondly,  and  as  they  wondered  at  their  apparel,  so  they  did  likewise  at  their 

The  second  speech,  for  few  could  understand  what  they  said.     They  naturally  spoke 

cause  of  the  hub-      |  J 

bub.  the  language  of  Canaan  ;  but  they  that  kept  the  fair  were  the  men  of 

_this_wprld :  so  that  from  one  end  of  the  fair  to  the  other  they  seemed  barbarians  each 
to  the  other,     i  Cor.  2:7,  8. 

Thirdly,  but  that  which  did  not  a  little  amuse  the  merchandisers  was,  that  these 

Third  cause  of  pilgrims  set  very  light  by  all  their  wares.     They  cared  not  so  much 

as  to  look  upon  them ;  and  if  they  called  upon  them  to  buy  they  would 

put  their  fingers   in  their  ears   and   cry,   "  Turn   away  mine   eyes  from   beholding 

vanity,"  Psa.  119:  37,  and  look  upward,  signifying  that  their  trade   and   traffic   was 

in  heaven.     Phil.  3  :  20,  21. 

One  chanced,  mockingly,  beholding  the  carriage  of  the  men,  to  say  unto  them, 
"  What  will  ye  buy  ?"     But  they,  looking  gravely  upon  him,  said,  "  We  buy  the  truth." 
17 


130 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Prov.  23 :  23.     At  that  there  was  an  occasion  taken  to  despise  the  men  the  more  ;  some 
mocking,  some  taunting,  some  speaking  reproachfully,  and  some  calling      Fourti,  cause  of 
upon  others  to  smite  them.     At  last  things  came  to  a  hubbub  and  great  the  llubbub- 
stir  in  the  fair,  insomuch  that  all  order  was  confounded.     Now  was  word  presently 
brought  to  the  great  one  of  the  fair,  who  quickly  came  down  and  deputed  some  of  his 

most  trusty  friends  to  take  those  men  into 
examination  about  whom  the  fair  was 
almost  overturned.  So  the  men  were 
brought  to  examination;  and  they  that 
sat  upon  them  asked  them  whence  they 
came,  whither  they  went,  and  what  they 
did  there  in  such  an  unusual  garb.  The 
men  told  them  they  were  pil-  They  ten 

..  .  .         who  they  are  and 

grims  and  strangers  in  the  whence  they  came. 
world,  and  that  they  were  going  to  their 
own  country,  which  was  the  heavenly 
Jerusalem,  Heb.  11:  13-16;  and  that  they 
had  given  no  occasion  to  the  men  of  the 
town,  nor  yet  to  the  merchandisers,  thus  to 
abuse  them,  and  to  let  them  in  their  jour- 
ney, except  it  was  for  that,  when  one  asked 
them  what  they  would  buy,  they  said  they 
would  buy  the  truth.  But  they  that  were 
appointed  to  examine  them  did  not  be- 
lieve them  to  be  any  other  than  bedlams 
and  mad,  or  else  such  as  came  to  put  all 
things  into  a  confusion  in  the  fair.  There-, 
fore  they  took  them  and  beat  them,  and 
besmeared  them  with  dirt,  and  then  put 

them  into  the  cage  that  they  might  be  made  a  spectacle  to  all  the  men  of  the  fair. 
There,  therefore,  they  lay  for  some  time,  and  were  made  the  objects  of  any  man's 
sport  or  malice  or  revenge,  the  great  one  of  the  fair  laughing  still  at  all  that  befell 
them.  But  the  men  being  patient,  and  "  not  rendering  railing  for  railing,  Their  behavior 
but  contrariwise  blessing,"  and  giving  good  words  for  bad,  and  kindness  mtheca#e- 
for  injuries  done,  some  men  in  the  fair,  who  were  more  observing  and  less  prejudiced 
than  the  rest,  began  to  check  and  blame  the  baser  sort  for  their  continual  abuses  done 
by  them  to  the  men.  They,  therefore,  in  an  angry  manner  let  fly  at  them  again, 
counting  them  as  bad  as  the  men  in  the  cage,  and  telling  them  that  they  seemed 
confederates  and  should  be  made  partakers  of  their  misfortunes.  The  others 
replied  that,  for  aught  they  could  see,  the  men  were  quiet  and  sober  and  intended 
nobody  any  harm;  and  that  there  were  many  that  traded  in  their  fair  that  were 
more  worthy  to  be  put  into  the  cage,  yea,  and  pillory  too,  than  were  the  men  that 
they  had  abused.  Thus,  after  divers  words  had  passed  on  both  sides  (the  men 


"SOME  MOCKING— AND  CALLING  ON  OTHERS  TO  SMITE  THEM." 


THEY  ARE  BROUGHT  TO  TRIAL.  131 

behaving  themselves  all  the  while  very  wisely  and  soberly  before  them),  they  fell 
to  some  blows  among  themselves  and  did  harm  one  to  another.     Then  were  these 
They  are  macie  two  poor  men  brought  before  their  examiners  again,  and  were  charged^- 
as  being  guilty  of  the  late  hubbub  that  had  been  in  the  fair.     So  they 


beat  them  pitifully,  and  hanged  irons  upon  them,  and  led  them  in  chains  up  and  v 
down  the  fair  for  an  example  and  terror  to  others,  lest  any  should  speak  in  their 
behalf  or  join  themselves  unto  them.     But  Christian  and  Faithful  behaved  them- 
selves yet  more  wisely,  and  received  the  ignominy  and  shame  that  was  cast  upon 
some  men  or  them  with   so  much  meekness  and  patience  that  it  won  to  their  side 

the  fair  won  over    ,,.,.,..,..  •  c    ,-,  ,N  i       r    ,-,  •      ±1        s 

to  them.  (though  but  few  in  comparison  of  the  rest)  several  of  the  men  in  the>/ 

fair.  This  put  the  other  party  yet  into  a  greater  rage,  insomuch  that  they  concluded 
the  death  of  these  two  men.  Wherefore  they  threatened  that  neither  cage  nor  irons 
should  serve  their  turn,  but  that  they  should  die  for  the  abuse  they  had  done  and  for 
deluding  the  men  of  the  fair. 

They  are  again          Then  were  they  remanded  to  the  cage  again,  until  further  order 
and  intafte™ies  should  be  taken  with  them.     So  they  put  them  in,  and  made  their  feet 

brought  to  trial.       fagt  in  the  stocks< 

Here  also  they  called  again  to  mind  what  they  had  heard  from  their  faithful 
friend  Evangelist,  and  were  the  more  confirmed  in  their  way  and  sufferings  by  what 
he  told  them  would  happen  to  them.  They  also  now  comforted  each  other  that  whose 
lot  it  was  to  suffer,  even  he  should  have  the  best  of  it  :  therefore  each  man  secretly  ^ 
wished  that  he  might  have  that  preferment.  But  committing  themselves  to  the  all- 
wise  disposal  of  Him  that  ruleth  all  things,  with  much  content  they  abode  in  the  con- 
dition in  which  they  were  until  they  should  be  otherwise  disposed  of. 

Then  a  convenient  time  being  appointed,  they  brought  them  forth  to  their  trial, 
in  order  to  their  condemnation.  When  the  time  was  come,  they  were  brought  before 
their  enemies  and  arraigned.  The  judge's  name  was  Lord  Hate-good  ;  their  indite- 
ment  was  one  and  the  same  in  substance,  though  somewhat  varying  in  form  ;  the 
contents  whereof  was  this  :  "  That  they  were  enemies  to,  and  disturbers  of,  the  trade  ; 
that  they  had  made  commotions  and  divisions  in  the  town,  and  had  won  a  party  to 
their  own  most  dangerous  opinions,  in  contempt  of  the  law  of  their  prince." 
Faithful  answers  Then  Faithful  began  to  answer  that  he  had  only  set  himself  against 
that  which  had  set  itself  against  Him  that  is  higher  than  the  highest. 
"And,"  said  he,  "as  for  disturbance,  I  make  none,  being  myself  a  man  of  peace:  the 
parties  that  were  won  to  us  were  won  by  beholding  our  truth  and  innocence,  and  they 
are  only  turned  from  the  worse  to  the  better.  And  as  to  the  king  you  talk  of,  since  ^ 
he  is  Beelzebub,  the  enemy  of  our  Lord,  I  defy  him  and  all  his  angels." 

Then  proclamation  was  made   that   they  that  had  aught  to  say  for  their  lord 
the  king  against  the  prisoner  at  the  bar  should  forthwith  appear  and  give  in  their 
evidence.     So  there  came  in  three  witnesses,  to  wit,  Envy,  Superstition,  and  Pick-  -^ 
thank.     They  were  then  asked  if  they  knew  the  prisoner  at  the  bar,  and  what  they 
had  to  say  for  their  lord  the  king  against  him. 

Envy  begins.  Then  stood  forth  Envy  and  said  to  this  effect:  "My  lord,  I  have 


ENVY  AND  SUPERSTITION  TESTIFY. 


133 


Then  did  the  judge  say  to  him,  "  Hast 
them  any  more  to  say?" 

ENVY.  My  lord,  I  could  say  much 
more,  only  I  would  not  be  tedious  to  the 
court.  Yet  if  need  be,  when  the  other 
gentlemen  have  given  in  their  evidence, 
rather  than  anything  shall  be  wanting 
that  will  dispatch  him,  I  will  enlarge  my 
testimony  against  him. 

So  he  was  bid  to  stand  by. 

Then  they  called  Superstition  and  bid 

superstition  him  look  uPon  the  prisoner. 
They  also  asked  what  he 
could  say  for  their  lord  the  king  against 
him.  Then  they  swore  him ;  so  he  began : 
SUPER.  My  lord,  I  have  no  great 
acquaintance  with  this  man,  nor  do  I  de- 
sire to  have  further  knowledge  of  him. 
However,  this  I  know,  that  he  is  a  very 
pestilent  fellow,  from  some  discourse  that 


follows. 


known  this  man  a  long  time,  and  will 
attest  upon  my  oath  before  this  honorable 
bench  that  he  is — 

JUDGE.  Hold ;   give  him  his  oath. 

So  they  swore  him.  Then  he  said, 
"  My  lord,  this  man,  notwithstanding  his 
plausible  name,  is  one  of  the  vilest  men  in  - 
our  country ;  he  neither  regardeth  prince 
nor  people,  law  nor  custom,  but  doeth  all 
that  he  can  to  possess  all  men  with  cer- 
tain of  his  disloyal  notions,  which  he  in 
the  general  calls  principles  of  faith  and 
holiness.  And  in  particular,  I  heard  him 
once  myself  affirm  that  Christianity  and 
the  customs  of  our  town  of  Vanity  were 
diametrically  opposite  and  could  not  be 
reconciled.  By  which  saying,  my  lord,  he 
doth  at  once  not  only  condemn  all  our 
laudable  doings,  but  us  in  the  doing  of  . 
them." 


SUPERSTITION. 


134 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


I   had  with  him  the  other  day  in  this  town ;  for  then,  talking  with  him,  I  heard 

j  Jiim  say  that  our  religion  was  naught,  and  such  by  which  a  man  could  by  no  means 

'please  God.     Which  saying  of  his,  my  lord,  your  lordship  very  well  knows  what 

necessarily  thence  will  follow,  to  wit,  that  we  still  do  worship  in  vain,  are  yet  in  our 

sins,  and  finally  shall  be  damned :  and  this 
is  that  which  I  have  to  say. 

Then  was  Pickthank  sworn  and  bid 
say  what  he  knew  in  the  behalf  of  their 
lord  the  king  against  the  prisoner  at  the 
bar. 

PICK.  My  lord,  and  you  gentlemen 
all,  this  fellow  I  have  known  nckt hank's 
of  a  long  time,  and  have  testllllony- 
heard  him  speak  things  that  ought  not  to 
be  spoken ;  for  he  hath  railed  on  our  no- 
ble  prince  Beelzebub,  and  hath  spoken 
contemptibly  of  his  honorable  friends, 
whose  names  are,  the  Lord  Old  Man,  the 
Lord  Carnal  Delight,  the  Lord  Luxurious, 
the  Lord  Desire-of-vain-glory,  my  old  Lord 
Lechery,  Sir  Having  Greedy,  with  all  the 
rest  of  our  nobility;  and  he  hath  said, 
moreover,  that  if  all  men  were  of  his 
mind,  if  possible,  there  is  not  one  of  these 
noblemen  should  have  any  longer  a  being 
in  this  town.  Besides,  he  hath  not  been 
afraid  to  rail  on  you,  my  lord,  who  are 
now  appointed  to  be  his  judge,  calling  you 

an  ungodly  villain,  with  many  other  such  like  vilifying  terms  with  which  he  hath  be- 
spattered most  of  the  gentry  of  our  town. 

When  this  Pickthank  had  told  his  tale,  the  judge  directed  his  speech  to  the  pris- 
oner at  the  bar,  saying,  "  Thou  runagate,  heretic,  and  traitor,  hast  thou  heard  what 
these  honest  gentlemen  have  witnessed  against  thee  ?" 

FAITH.  May  I  speak  a  few  words  in  my  own  defence  ? 

JUDGE.  Sirrah,  sirrah,  thou  deservest  to  live  no  longer,  but  to  be  slain  imme- 
diately upon  the  place ;  yet,  that  all  men  may  see  our  gentleness  towards  thee,  let  us 
hear  what  thou,  vile  runagate,  hast  to  say. 

FAITH.  First  I  say,  then,  in  answer  to  what  Mr.  Envy  hath  spoken,        Faithful's  ae- 
I  never  said  aught  but  this,  that  what  rule  or  laws  or  custom  or  people  fence 
were  flat  against  the  Word  of  God  are  diametrically  opposite  to  Christianity.     If  I 
have  said  amiss  in  this,  convince  me  of  my  error,  and  I  am  ready  here  before  you  to 
make  my  recantation. 

As  to  the  second,  to  wit,  Mr.  Superstition,  and  his  charge  against  me,  I  said  only 


PICKTHANK. 


VERDICT  OF  THE  JURY.  135 

this,  that  in i  the  ^worship  of  God  there  is  required  a  divine  faith;  but  there  can  be  no     , 
divine  faith  without  a  divine  revelation  of  the  will  of  God.     Therefore,  whatever  is 
thrust  into  the  worship  of  God  that  is  not  agreeable  to  divine  revelation  cannot  be 
done  but  by  a  human  faith ;  which  faith  will  not  be  profitable  to  eternal  life. 

Third,  as  to  what  Mr.  Pickthank  hath  said,  I  say  (avoiding  terms,  as  that  I  am 
said  to  rail,  and  the  like)  that  the  prince  of  this  town,  with  all  the  rabblement,  his     ~ 
attendants,  by  this  gentleman  named,  are  more  fit  for  a  being  in  hell  than  in  this 
town  and  country.     And  so  the  Lord  have  mercy  upon  me. 

The  juke's  Then  the  judge  called  to  the  jury  (who  all  this  while  stood  by  to 
speech  to  the  jury.  hear  and  observe),  "  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  you  see  this  man  about 
whom  so  great  an  uproar  hath  been  made  in  this  town ;  you  have  also  heard  what 
these  worthy  gentlemen  have  witnessed  against  him ;  also,  you  have  heard  his  reply 
and  confession :  it  lieth  now  in  your  breasts  to  hang  him  or  save  his  life ;  but  yet  I 
think  meet  to  instruct  you  in  our  law. 

"  There  was  an  act  made  in  the  days  of  Pharaoh  the  Great,  servant  to  our  prince, 
that  lest  those  of  a  contrary  religion  should  multiply  and  grow  too  strong  for  him, 
their  males  should  be  thrown  into  the  river.  Exod.  i  :  22.  There  was  also  an  act 
made  in  the  days  of  Nebuchadnezzar  the  Great,  another  of  his  servants,  that  whoever 
would  not  fall  down  and  worship  his  golden  image  should  be  thrown  into  a  fiery  fur- 
nace. Dan.  3  : 6.  There  was  also  an  act  made  in  the  days  of  Darius  that  whoso  for 
some  time  called  upon  any  god  but  him  should  be  cast  into  the  lions'  den.  Dan.  6 : 7. 
Now  the  substance  of  these  laws  this  rebel  has  broken,  not  only  in  thought  (which 
is  not  to  be  borne),  but  also  in  word  and  deed;  which  must,  therefore,  needs  be 
intolerable. 

"  For  that  of  Pharaoh,  his  law  was  made  upon  a  supposition  to  prevent  mischief, 
no  crime  being  yet  apparent;  but  here  is  a  crime  apparent.    For  the  second  and  third, ^ 
you  see  he  disputeth  against  our  religion ;  and  for  the  treason  that  he  hath  already  /  * 
confessed,  he  deserveth  to  die  the  death." 

Then  went  the  jury  out,  whose  names  were  Mr.  Blindman,  Mr.  No-good,  Mr. 

Malice,  Mr.  Love-lust,  Mr.  Live-loose,  Mr.  Heady,  Mr.  High-mind,  Mr.  Enmity,  Mr. 

Liar,  Mr.  Cruelty,  Mr.  Hate-light,  and  Mr.  Implacable ;   who  every  one  gave  in  his 

They  bun-  him  private  verdict  against  him  among  themselves,  and  afterwards  unani- 

in  guilty  of  death.    motlsly  concluded  to  bring  him   in  guilty  before  the  judge. 

And  first  among  themselves,  Mr.  Blindman,  the  foreman,  said,  "  I  see  clearly 
that  this  man  is  a  heretic." 

Then  said  Mr.  No-good,  "  Away  with  such  a  fellow  from  the  earth." 

"  Ay,"  said  Mr.  Malice,  "  for  I  hate  the  very  looks  of  him." 

Then  said  Mr.  Love-lust,  "  I  could  never  endure  him." 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Mr.  Live-loose,  "  for  he  would  always  be  condemning  my  way." 

"  Hang  him,  hang  him,"  said  Mr.  Heady. 

"  A  sorry  scrub,"  said  Mr.  High-mind. 

"  My  heart  riseth  against  him,"  said  Mr.  Enmity. 

"  He  is  a  rogue,"  said  Mr.  Liar. 


FAITHFULS  CRUEL  DEATH. 


137 


"  Hanging  is  too  good  for  him,"  said  Mr.  Cruelty. 

"  Let  us  despatch  him  out  of  the  way,"  said  Mr.  Hate-light. 

Then  said  Mr.  Implacable,  "  Might  I  have  all  the  world  given  me,  I  could  not  be 
reconciled  to  him ;  therefore  let  us  forthwith  bring  him  in.  guilty  of  death." 

And  so  they  did ;  therefore  he  was  presently  condemned  to  be  had  from  the  place 
where  he  was  to  the  place  from  whence  he  came,  and  there  to  be  put  to  the  most 
cruel  death  that  could  be  invented. 

They  therefore  brought  him  out  to  do  with  him  according  to  their  law ;  and  first 

fthey  scourged  him,  then  they  buffeted  him, 
:hen  they  lanced  his  flesh  with  knives; 
ifter  that  they  stoned  him  with  stones, 
TIM?  crneuieaih  tlien  pricked  him  with  their 
or  Famirui.  swords ;  and  last  of  all  they 

burned  him  to  ashes  at  the  stake.     Thus 
came  Faithful  to  his  end. 

Now  I  saw  that  there  stood  behind 
the  multitude  a  chariot  and  a  couple  of 
horses  waiting  for  Faithful,  who  (so  soon 
'  as  his  adversaries  had  despatched  him)  was 
taken  up  into  it  and  straightway  was  car- 
ried up  through  the  clouds,  with  sound  of 
trumpet,  the  nearest  way  to  the  celestial 
gate.  But  as  for  Christian,  he  had  some 
respite,  and  was  remanded  back  to  prison, 
so  he  there  remained  for  a  space.  But 
He  who  overrules  all  things,  having  the 
power  of  their  rage  in  his  own  hand,  so 
Christian  wrought  it  about  that  Qiris-_ 

escapes.  t|aQ      for     ^^     ^mQ     escape(J 

\    /  --  - 

/them,  and  went  his  way. 

And  as  he  went  he  sang,  saying, 


"THEY  BURNED  HIM  TO  ASHES  AT  THK  STAKE." 

"Well,  Faithful,  thou  hast  faithfully  professed 
Unto  thy  Lord,  with  whom  thou  shalt  be  blessed, 
When  faithless  ones,  with  all  their  vain  delights, 
Are  crying  out  under  their  hellish  plights  : 
Sing,  Faithful,  sing,  and  let  thy  name  survive ; 
For  though  they  killed  thee,  thou  art  yet  alive." 


18 


138  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


THE  SEVENTH  STAGE. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  Christian  went  not  forth  alone ;  for  there  was  one 
whose  name  was  Hopeful-(being  so  made  by  the  beholding  of  Christian  Christian  has 
and  Faithful  in  their  words  and  behavior,  in  their  sufferings  at  the  fair),  ion. 
who  joined  himself  unto  him,  and  entering  into  a  brotherly  covenant,  told  him  that 
he  would  be  his  companion.  Thus  one  died  to  bear  testimony  to  the  truth,  and 
another  rises  out  of  his  ashes  to  be  a  companion  with  Christian  in  his  pilgrimage. 
This  Hopeful  also  told  Christian  that  there  were  many  more  of  the  men  in  the  fair 
that  would  take  their  time  and  follow  after. 

So  I  saw  that  quickly  after  they  were  got  out  of  the  fair,  they  overtook  one  that 
was  going  before  them,  whose  name  was  By-ends^ so  they  said  to  him,       .They  overtake 
"What  countryman,  sir;  and  how  far  go  you  this  way?"     He  told  them  By-end8- 
that  he  came  from  the  town  of  Fair-speech,  and  he  was  going  to  the  celestial  city ;  but 
told  them  not  his  name. 

"  From  Fair-speech  ?"  said  Christian.  "  Is  there  any  good  that  lives  there  ?" 
Prov.  26:  25. 

"Yes,"  said  By-ends,  "I  hope  so." 

CHR.  Pray,  sir,  what  may  I  call  you  ? 

BY-ENDS.  I  am  a  stranger  to  you  and  you  to  me ;  if  you  be  going  this  way  I  shall 
be  glad  of  your  company ;  if  not,  I  must  be  content. 

"  This  town  of  Fair-speech,"  said  Christian,  "  I  have  heard  of ;  and,  as  I  remem- 
ber, they  say  it 's  a  wealthy  place." 

BY.  Yes,  I  will  assure  you  that  it  is ;  and  I  have  very  many  rich  kindred  there. 

CHR.  Pray,  who  are  your  kindred  there,  if  a  man  may  be  so  bold  ? 

BY.  Almost  the  whole  town  ;  and  in  particular  my  Lord  Turn-about,  my  Lord 
Time-server,  my  Lord  Fair-speech,  from  whose  ancestors  that  town  first  took  its 
name ;  also  Mr.  Smooth-man,  Mr.  Facing-both-ways,  Mr.  Anything ;  and  the  parson  of 
our  parish,  Mr.  Two-tongues,  was  my  mother's  own  brother  by  father's  side ;  and  to 
tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  become  a  gentleman  of  good  quality,  yet  my  great-grandfather 
was  but  a  waterman,  looking  one  way  and  rowing  another,  and  I  got  most  of  my 
estate  by  the  same  occupation. 

CHR.  Are  you  a  married  man  ? 

BY.  Yes,  and  my  wife  is  a  very  virtuous  woman,  the  daughter  of  a  virtuous 
woman:  she  was  my  Lady  Feigning's  daughter;  therefore  she  came  of  a  very 
honorable  family,  and  is  arrived  to  such  a  pitch  of  breeding  that  she  knows  how 
to  carry  it  to  all,  even  to  prince  and  peasant.  'Tis  true  we  some-  where  By-emis 

*  .  differs  from  others 

what  differ  in  religion  from  those  of  the  stricter  sort,  yet  but  in  two  in  religion, 
small  points :  First,  we  never  strive  against  wind  and  tide.     Secondly,  we  are  always 
most  zealous  when  religion  goes  in  his  silver  slippers ;  we  love  much  to  walk  with 
him  in  the  street  if  the  sun  shines  and  the  people  applaud  him. 


'  THERE  WAS  ONE  WHOSE  NAME  WAS  HOPEFUL,  WHO  JOINED  HIMSELF  UNTO  HIM." 


140  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

Then  Christian  stepped  a  little  aside  to  his  fellow  Hopeful,  saying,  "  It  runs  in 
my  mind  that  this  is  one  By-ends  of  Fair-speech ;  and  if  it  be  he,  we  have  as  very  a 
knave  in  our  company  as  dwelleth  in  all  these  parts."  Then  said  Hopeful,  "Ask  him. 
Methinks  he  should  not  be  ashamed  of  his  name."  So  Christian  came  up  with  him 
again,  and  said,  "  Sir,  you  talk  as  if  you  knew  something  more  than  all  the  world 
doth ;  and,  if  I  take  not  my  mark  amiss,  I  deem  I  have  half  a  guess  of  you.  Is  not 
your  name  Mr.  By-ends  of  Fair-speech  ?" 

BY.  This  is  not  my  name,  but  indeed  it  is  a  nickname  that  is  given  me  by  some 
that  cannot  abide  me,  and  I  must  be  content  to  bear  it  as  a  reproach,  as  other  good 
men  have  borne  theirs  before  me. 

CHR.  But  did  you  never  give  an  occasion  to  men  to  call  you  by  this  name  ? 

BY.  Never,  never.     The  worst  that  ever  I  did  to  give  them  an  occasion  to  give 
me  this  name  was,  that  I  had  always  the  luck  to  jump  in  my  judgment         How  Bv.enda 
with  the  present  way  of  the  times,  whatever  it  was,  and  my  chance  was  g°thlsname- 
to  get  thereby ;  but  if  things  are  thus  cast  upon  me,  let  me  count  them  a  blessing ; 
but  let  not  the  malicious  load  me  therefore  with  reproach. 

CHR.  I  thought,  indeed,  that  you  were  the  man  that  I  heard  of;  and  to  tell  you 
what  I  think,  I  fear  this  name  belongs  to  you  more  properly  than  you  are  willing  we 
should  think  it  doth. 

BY.  Well,  if  you  will  thus  imagine,  I  cannot  help  it ;  you  shall  find         He  desires  to 

,    .  1  ..  M1        ....       ,       .  .  keep    company 

me  a  fair  company-keeper  if  you  will  still  admit  me  your  associate.  with  Christian. 

CHR.  If  you  will  go  with  us  you  must  go  against  wind  and  tide ;  the  which,  I 
perceive,  is  against  your  opinion ;  you  must  also  own  religion  in  his  rags,  as  well  as 
when  in  his  silver  slippers ;  and  stand  by  him  too  when  bound  in  irons,  as  well  as 
when  he  walketh  the  streets  with  applause. 

BY.  You  must  not  impose  nor  lord  it  over  my  faith  ;  leave  me  to  my  liberty,  and 
let  me  go  with  you. 

CHR.  Not  a  step  farther,  unless  you  will  do,  in  what  I  propound,  as  we. 

Then  said  By-ends,  "  I  shall  never  desert  my  old  principles,  since  they  are  harm- 
less and  profitable.  If  I  may  not  go  with  you,  I  must  do  as  I  did  before  you  over- 
took me,  even  go  by  myself  until  some  overtake  me  that  will  be  glad  of  my  com- 
pany." 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  Christian  and  Hopeful  forsook  him,  and  kept  their 
distance  before  him ;  but  one  of  them,  looking  back,  saw  three  men  following  Mr.  By- 
ends  ;  and  behold,  as  they  came  up  with  him,  he  made  them  a  very  low  conge ;  and 
they  also  gave  him  a  compliment.  The  men's  names  were  Mr.  Hold-the-  By-ends  has  new 
world,  Mr.  Money-love,  and  Mr.  Save-all,  men  that  Mr.  By-ends  had  for-  companions, 
merly  been  acquainted  with ;  for  in  their  minority  they  were  schoolfellows,  and  were 
taught  by  one  Mr.  Gripeman,  a  schoolmaster  in  Lovegain,  which  is  a  market-town  in 
the  county  of  Coveting,  in  the  North.  This  schoolmaster  taught  them  the  art  of 
getting,  either  by  violence,  cozenage,  flattering,  lying,  or  by  putting  on  a  guise  of 
religion ;  and  these  four  gentlemen  had  attained  much  of  the  art  of  their  master,  so 
that  they  could  each  of  them  have  kept  such  a  school  themselves. 


142  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

Well,  when  they  had,  as  I  said,  thus  saluted  each  other,  Mr.  Money-love  said  to 
Mr.  By-ends,  "  Who  are  they  upon  the  road  before  us  ?"  for  Christian  and  Hopeful 
were  yet  within  view. 

BY.  They  are  a  couple  of  far-countrymen,  that,  after  their  mode,  are  By-ends'  charac- 
going  on  pilgrimage.  ter  of  the  Pu»rim8- 

MONEY.  Alas,  why  did  they  not  stay,  that  we  might  have  had  their  good  com- 
pany ?  for  they  and  we  and  you,  sir,  I  hope,  are  all  going  on  pilgrimage. 

BY.  We  are  so,  indeed ;  but  the  men  before  us  are  so  rigid,  and  love  so  much 
their  own  notions,  and  do  also  so  lightly  esteem  the  opinions  of  others,  that  let  a  man 
be  ever  so  godly,  yet  if  he  jumps  not  with  them  in  all  things,  they  thrust  him  quite 
out  of  their  company. 

SAVE.  That  is  bad ;  but  we  read  of  some  that  are  righteous  overmuch,  and  such 
men's  rigidness  prevails  with  them  to  judge  and  condemn  all  but  themselves.  But  I 
pray,  what  and  how  many  were  the  things  wherein  you  differed  ? 

BY.  Why,  they,  after  their  headstrong  manner,  conclude  that  it  is  their  duty  to 
rush  on  their  journey  all  weathers ;  and  I  am  for  waiting  for  wind  and  tide.  They  are 
for  hazarding  all  for  God  at  a  clap ;  and  I  am  for  taking  all  advantages  to  secure  my 
life  and  estate.  They  are  for  holding  their  notions,  though  all  other  men  be  against 
them  ;  but  I  am  for  religion  in  what  and  so  far  as  the  times  and  my  safety  will  bear 
it.  They  are  for  religion  when  in  rags  and  contempt ;  but  I  am  for  him  when  he 
walks  in  his  silver  slippers,  in  the  sunshine,  and  with  applause. 

HOLD-THE-WORLD.  Ay,  and  hold  you  there  still,  good  Mr.  By-ends ;  for,  for  my 
part,  I  can  count  him  but  a  fool  that,  having  the  liberty  to  keep  what  he  has,  shall  be 
so  unwise  as  to  lose  it.  Let  us  be  wise  as  serpents.  It  is  best  to  make  hay  while  the 
sun  shines.  You  see  how  the  bee  lieth  still  in  winter  and  bestirs  her  only  when  she 
can  have  profit  with  pleasure.  God  sends  sometimes  rain  and  sometimes  sunshine : 
if  they  be  such  fools  to  go  through  the  first,  yet  let  us  be  content  to  take  fair  weather 
along  with  us.  For  my  part,  I  like  that  religion  best  that  will  stand  with  the  security 
of  God's  blessings  upon  us ;  for  who  can  imagine,  that  is  ruled  by  his  reason,  since 
God  has  bestowed  upon  us  the  good  things  of  this  life,  but  that  he  would  have  us 
keep  them  for  his  sake  ?  Abraham  and  Solomon  grew  rich  in  religion  ;  and  Job  says 
that  a  good  man  shall  lay  up  gold  as  dust ;  but  he  must  not  be  such  as  the  men  before 
us,  if  they  be  as  you  have  described  them. 

SAVE.  I  think  that  we  are  all  agreed  in  this  matter ;  and  therefore  there  needs  no 
more  words  about  it. 

MONEY.  No,  there  needs  no  more  words  about  this  matter,  indeed ;  for  he  that 
believes  neither  Scripture  nor  reason  (and  you  see  we  have  both  on  our  side),  neither 
knows  his  own  liberty  nor  seeks  his  own  safety. 

BY.  My  brethren,  we  are,  as  you  see,  going  all  on  pilgrimage ;  and  for  our  better 
diversion  from  things  that  are  bad,  give  me  leave  to  propound  unto  you  this  ques- 
tion: 

Suppose  a  man,  a  minister  or  a  tradesman,  etc.,  should  have  an  advantage  lie  be- 
fore him  to  get  the  good  blessings  of  this  life,  yet  so  as  that  he  can  by  no  means  come 


MONEY-LOVES  SOPHISTRY.  143 

by  them  except,  in  appearance  at  least,  he  becomes  extraordinarily  zealous  in  some 
points  of  religion  that  he  meddled  not  with  before ;  may  he  not  use  this  means  to 
attain  his  end,  and  yet  be  a  right  honest  man  ? 

MONEY.  I  see  the  bottom  of  your  question;  and  with  these  gentlemen's  good 
leave,  I  will  endeavor  to  shape  you  an  answer.  And  first,  to  speak  to  your  question  as 
it  concerneth  a  minister  himself :  suppose  a  minister,  a  worthy  man,  possessed  but  of 
a  very  small  benefice,  and  has  in  his  eye  a  greater,  more  fat  and  plump  by  far ;  he  has 
also  now  an  opportunity  of  getting  it,  yet  so  as  by  being  more  studious,  by  preaching 
more  frequently  and  zealously,  and,  because  the  temper  of  the  people  requires  it,  by 
altering  some  of  his  principles ;  for  my  part,  I  see  no  reason  why  a  man  may  not  do 
this,  provided  he  has  a  call,  ay,  and  more  a  great  deal  besides,  and  yet  be  an  honest 
man.  For  why  ? 

1.  His  desire  of  a  greater  benefice  is  lawful  (this  cannot  be  contradicted),  since  it 
is  set  before  him  by  Providence ;  so  then  he  may  get  it  if  he  can,  making  no  question 
for  conscience'  sake. 

2.  Besides,  his  desire  after  that  benefice  makes  him  more  studious,  a  more  zealous 
preacher,  etc.,  and  so  makes  him  a  better  man,  yea,  makes  him  better  improve  his 
parts,  which  is  according  to  the  mind  of  God. 

3.  Now  as  for  his  complying  with  the  temper  of  his  people  by  deserting,  to  serve 
them,  some  of  his  principles,  this  argueth,  first,  that  he  is  of  a  self-denying  temper; 
second,  of  a  sweet  and  winning  deportment ;  and  third,  so  more  fit  for  the  ministerial 
function. 

4.  I  conclude,  then,  that  a  minister  that  changes  a  small  fora  great  should  not, 
for  so  doing,  be  judged  as  covetous;  but  rather,  since  he  is  improved  in  his  parts  and 
industry  thereby,  be  counted  as  one  that  pursues  his  call  and  the  opportunity  put  into 
his  hand  to  do  good. 

And  now  to  the  second  part  of  the  question,  which  concerns  the  tradesman  you 
mentioned.  Suppose  such  a  one  to  have  but  a  poor  employ  in  the  world,  but  by  be- 
coming religious  he  may  mend  his  market,  perhaps  get  a  rich  wife,  or  more  and  far 
better  customers  to  his  shop ;  for  my  part,  I  see  no  reason  but  this  may  be  lawfully 
done.  For  why  ? 

1.  To  become  religious  is  a  virtue,  by  what  means  soever  a  man  becomes  so. 

2.  Nor  is  it  unlawful  to  get  a  rich  wife  or  more  custom  to  my  shop. 

3.  Besides,  the  man  that  gets  these  by  becoming  religious,  gets  that  which  is  \ 
good  of  them  that  are  good,  by  becoming  good   himself;   so  then,  here   is  a  good 
wife  and  good  customers  and  good  gain,  and  all  these  by  becoming  religious,  which   I 
is  good:   therefore,  to  become  religious  to  get  all  these  is  a  good  and  profitable'7 
design. 

This  answer  thus  made  by  Mr.  Money-love  to  Mr.  By-ends'  question  was  highly 
applauded  by  them  all ;  wherefore  they  concluded,  upon  the  whole,  that  it  was  most 
wholesome  and  advantageous.  And  because,  as  they  thought,  no  man  was  able  tc 
contradict  it,  and  because  Christian  and  Hopeful  were  yet  within  call,  they  jointly 
agreed  to  assault  them  with  the  question  as  soon  as  they  overtook  them,  and  the 


144  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS, 

rather,  because  they  had  opposed  Mr.  By-ends  before.  So  they  called  after  them,  and 
they  stopped  and  stood  still  till  they  came  up  to  them ;  but  they  concluded,  as  they 
went,  that  not  Mr.  By-ends,  but  old  Mr.  Hold-the-world,  should  propound  the  question 
to  them,  becau,se,  as  they  supposed,  their  answer  to  him  would  be  without  the  remain- 
der of  that  heat  that  was  kindled  between  Mr.  By-ends  and  them  at  their  parting  a 
little  before. 

So  they  came  up  to  each  other,  and  after  a  short  salutation  Mr.  Hold-the-world 
propounded  the  question  to  Christian  and  his  fellow,  and  then  bid  them  to  answer  if 
they  could. 

Then  Christian  said,  "  Even  a  babe  in  religion  may  answer  ten  thousand  such 
questions.  For  if  it  be  unlawful  to  follow  Christ  for  loaves,  as  it  is,  John  6 : 26,  how 
much  more  abominable  is  it  to  make  of  him  and  religion  a  stalking-horse  to  get  and 
enjoy  the  world !  Nor  do  we  find  any  other  than  heathens,  hypocrites,  devils,  and 
wizards  that  are  of  this  opinion. 

"  i.  Heathens:  for  when  Hamor  and  Shechem  had  a  mind  to  the  daughter  and 
cattle  of  Jacob,  and  saw  that  there  was  no  way  for  them  to  come  at  them  but  by  being 
circumcised,  they  said  to  their  companions,  '  If  every  male  of  us  be  circumcised,  as 
they  are  circumcised,  shall  not  their  cattle  and  their  substance  and  every  beast  of 
theirs  be  ours  ?'  Their  daughters  and  their  cattle  were  that  which  they  sought  to 
obtain,  and  their  religion  the  stalking-horse  they  made  use  of  to  come  at  them.  Read 
the  whole  story,  Gen.  34 :  20-24. 

"  2.  The  hypocritical  Pharisees  were  also  of  this  religion :  long  prayers  were  their 
pretence,  but  to  get  widows'  houses  was  their  intent ;  and  greater  damnation  was  from 
God  their  judgment.  Luke  20 :  46,  47. 

"  3.  Judas  the  devil  was  also  of  this  religion ;  he  was  religious  for  the  bag,  that  he 
might  be  possessed  of  what  was  put  therein ;  but  he  was  lost,  cast  away,  and  the  very 
son  of  perdition. 

"  Simon  the  wizard  was  of  this  religion  too ;  for  he  would  have  had  the  Holy 
Ghost,  that  he  might  have  got  money  therewith :  and  his  sentence  from  Peter's  mouth 
was  according.  Acts  8  :  19-22. 

"5.  Neither  will  it  go  out  of  my  mind  but  that  that  man  who  takes  up  religion 
for  the  world  will  throw  away  religion  for  the  world ;  for  so  surely  as  Judas  designed 
the  world  in  becoming  religious,  so  surely  did  he  also  sell  religion  and  his  Master  for 
the  same.  To  answer  the  question,  therefore,  affirmatively,  as  I  perceive  you  have 
done,  and  to  accept  of,  as  authentic,  such  answer,  is  heathenish,  hypocritical,  and 
devilish ;  and  your  reward  will  be  according  to  your  works." 

Then  they  stood  staring  one  upon  another,  but  had  not  wherewith  to  answer 
Christian.  Hopeful  also  approved  of  the  soundness  of  Christian's  answer;  so  there 
was  a  great  silence  among .  them.  Mr.  By-ends  and  his  company  also  staggered  and 
kept  behind,  that  Christian  and  Hopeful  might  outgo  them.  Then  said  Christian  to 
his  fellow,  "  If  these  men  cannot  stand  before  the  sentence  of  men,  what  will  they  do 
with  the  sentence  of  God  ?  And  if  they  are  mute  when  dealt  with  by  vessels  of  clay, 
what  will  they  do  when  they  shall  be  rebuked  by  the  flames  of  a  devouring  fire  ?" 


DEMAS  AND  THE  SILVER-MINE.  145 

Then  Christian  and  Hopeful  outwent  them  again,  and  went  till  they  came  .at  a 
delicate  plain  called  Ease,  where  they  went  with  much  content;  but  that  plain  was 
but  narrow,  so  they  were  quickly  got  over  it.  Now  at  the  farther  side  of  that  plain 
was  a  little  hill  called  Lucre,  and  in  that  hill  a  silver-mine,  which  some  of  them  that 
had  formerly  gone  that  way,  because  of  the  rarity  of  it,  had  turned  aside  to  see;  but 
going  too  near  the  brim  of  the  pit,  the  ground,  being  deceitful  under  them,  broke,  and 
they  were  slain ;  some  also  had  been  maimed  there,  and  could  not,  to  their  dying  day, 
be  their  own  men  again. 

De.nas  at  the          Then  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  a  little  off  the  road,  over  against  the 
silver-mine,  stood  Demas  (gentleman-like)  to  call  passengers  to  come  and 
see ;  who  said  to  Christian  and  his  fellow,  "  Ho,  turn  aside  hither  and  I  will  show  you 
a  thing." 

CIIR.  What  thing  so  deserving  as  to  turn  us  out  of  the  way  to  see  it? 

DEMAS.  Here  is  a  silver-mine  and  some  digging  in  it  for  treasure.  If  "you  will 
come,  with  a  little  pains  you  may  richly  provide  for  yourselves. 

Hopemi tempted          Then  said  Hopeful,  "  Let  us  go  see." 

ICiif"' holds  C1him  "  Not  I,"  said  Christian.    "  I  have  heard  of  this  place  before  now,  and 

how  many  there  have  been  slain ;  and  besides,  that  treasure  is  a  snare  to 
those  that  seek  it,  for  it  hindereth  them  in  their  pilgrimage." 

Then  Christian  called  to  Demas,  saying,  "  Is  not  the  place  dangerous  ?  Hath  it 
not  hindered  many  in  their  pilgrimage  ?"  Hosea  9 : 6. 

"  Not  very  dangerous,"  said  Demas,  "  except  to  those  that  are  careless ;"  but 
withal  he  blushed  as  he  spoke. 

Then  said  Christian  to  Hopeful,  "  Let  us  not  stir  a  step,  but  still  keep  on  our 
way." 

HOPE.  I  will  warrant  you  when  By-ends  comes  up,  if  he  hath  the  same  invitation 
as  we,  he  will  turn  in  thither  to  see. 

CHR.  No  doubt  thereof,  for  his  principles  lead  him  that  way,  and  a  hundred  to 
one  but  he  dies  there. 

Then  Demas  called  again,  saying,  "  But  will  you  not  come  over  and  see  ?" 

Then  Christian  roundly  answered,  saying,  "  Demas,  thou  art  an  enemy  to  the 
right  ways  of  the  Lord  of  this  way,  and  hast  been  already  condemned  for  thine  own 
turning  aside  by  one  of  his  Majesty's  judges,  2  Tim.  4:  10;  and  why  seekest  thou  to 
bring  us  into  the  like  condemnation  ?  Besides,  if  we  at  all  turn  aside,  our  Lord  the 
King  will  certainly  hear  thereof,  and  will  there  put  us  to  shame  where  we  would 
stand  with  boldness  before  him." 

Demas  cried  again  that  he  also  was  one  of  their  fraternity ;  and  that  if  they  would 
tarry  a  little,  he  also  himself  would  walk  with  them. 

Then  said  Christian,  "  What  is  thy  name  ?  Is  it  not  the  same  by  which  I  have 
called  thee  ?" 

DEMAS.  Yes,  my  name  is  Demas ;  I  am  the  son  of  Abraham. 

CHR.  I  know  you:   Gehazi  was  your  great-grandfather,  and  Judas  your  father, 
and  you  have  trod  in  their  steps ;  it  is  but  a  devilish  prank  that  thou  usest.  Thy  father 
19 


146  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

was  hanged  for  a  traitor,  and  thou  deservest  no  better  reward.  2  Kings  5 : 20-27 » 
Matt.  26:14,  15  ;  27  :  3-5.  Assure  thyself  that  when  we  come  to  the  King  we  will  tell 
him  of  this  thy  behavior. 

Thus  they  went  their  way. 

By  this  time  By-ends  and  his  companions  were  come  again  within  sight,  and  they 
at  the  first  beck  went  over  to  Demas.  Now,  whether  they  fell  into  the  j?y.emis  goes 
pit  by  looking  over  the  brink  thereof,  or  whether  they  went  down  to  over  to  Uemas- 
dig,  or  whether  they  were  smothered  in  the  bottom  by  the  damps  that  commonly 
arise,  of  these  things  I  am  not  certain  ;  but  this  I  observed,  that  they  were  never  seen 
again  in  the  way.  Then  sang  Christian, 

' '  By-ends  and  silver  Demas  both  agree  ; 
One  calls,  the  other  runs,  that  he  may  be 
A  sharer  in  his  lucre :  so  these  two 
Take  up  in  this  world,  and  no  farther  go." 

Now  I  saw  that  just  on  the  other  side  of  this  plain  the  pilgrims  Tluiy  sce  a  strange 
came  to  a  place  w^here  stood  an  old  monument,  hard  by  the  highway-  monument- 
side,  at  the  sight  of  which  they  were  both  concerned  because  of  the  strangeness  of  the 
form  thereof :  for  it  seemed  to  them  as  if  it  had  been  a  woman  transformed  into  the 
shape  of  a  pillar.  Here,  therefore,  they  stood  looking  and  looking  upon  it,  but  could 
not  for  a  time  tell  what  they  should  make  thereof.  At  last  Hopeful  espied,  written 
above  the  head  thereof,  a  writing  in  an  unusual  hand  ;  but  he,  being  no  scholar,  called 
to  Christian  (for  he  was  learned)  to  see  if  he  could  pick  out  the  meaning :  so  he  came, 
and  after  a  little  laying  of  letters  together,  he  found  the  same  to  be  this,  "  Remember 
Lot's  wife."  So  he  read  it  to  his  fellow;  after  which  they'both  concluded  that  that  was 
the  pillar  of  salt  into  which  Lot's  wife  was  turned,  for  her  looking  back  with  a  covetous 
heart  when  she  was  going  from  Sodom  for  safety.  Gen.  19:26.  Which  sudden  and 
amazing  sight  gave  them  occasion  for  this  discourse  : 

CHR.  Ah,  my  brother,  this  is  a  seasonable  sight :  it  came  opportunely  to  us  after 
the  invitation  which  Demas  gave  us  to  come  over  to  view  the  hill  Lucre  ;  and  had  we 
gone  over,  as  he  desired  us,  and  as  thou  wast  inclined  to  do,  my  brother,  we  had,  for. 
aught  I  know,  been  made  like  this  woman  a  spectacle  for  those  that  came  after  to 
behold. 

HOPE.  I  am  sorry  that  I  was  so  foolish,  and  am  made  to  wonder  that  I  am  not 
now  as  Lot's  wife;  for  wherein  was  the  difference  between  her. sin  and  mine?  She 
only  looked  back,  and  I  had  a  desire  to  go  see.  Let  grace  be  adored,  and  let  me  be 
ashamed  that  ever  such  a  thing  should  be  in  my  heart. 

CHR.  Let  us  take  notice  of  what  we  see  here  for  our  help  for  time  to  come.  This 
woman  escaped  one  judgment,  for  she  fell  not  by  the  destruction  of  Sodom ;  yet  she 
was  destroyed  by  another,  as  we  see :  she  is  turned  into  a  pillar  of  salt. 

HOPE.  True,  and  she  may  be  to  us  both  caution  and  example :  caution,  that  we 
should  shun  her  sin,  or  a  sign  of  what  judgment  will  overtake  such  as  shall  not  be 
prevented  by  this  caution ;  so  Korah,  Dathan,  and  Abiram,  with  the  two  hundred  and 
fifty  men  that  perished  in  their  sin,  did  also  become  a  sign  or  example  to  others  to 


"REMEMBER  LOT'S  WIFE." 


148  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

beware.  Num.  16:31,  32;  26:9,  10.  But  above  all,  I  muse  at  one  thing,  to  wit,  how 
Demas  and  his  fellows  can  stand  so  confidently  yonder  to  look  for  that  treasure  which 
this  woman  but  for  looking  behind  her  after  (for  we  read  not  that  she  stepped  one 
foot  out  of  the  way),  was  turned  into  a  pillar  of  salt ;  especially  since  the  judgment 
which  overtook  her  did  make  her  an  example  within  sight  of  where  they  are ;  for 
they  cannot  choose  but  see  her,  did  they  but  lift  up  their  eyes. 

CHR.  It  is  a  thing  to  be  wondered  at,  and  it  argueth  that  their  hearts  are  grown 
desperate  in  the  case  ;  and  I  cannot  tell  who  to  compare  them  to  so  fitly  as  to  them 
that  pick  pockets  in  the  presence  of  the  judge,  or  that  will  cut  purses  under  the  gal- 
lows. It  is  said  of  the  men  of  Sodom  that  they  were  "sinners  exceedingly,"  because 
they  were  sinners  "  before  the  Lord,"  that  is,  in  his  eyesight,  and  notwithstanding  the 
kindnesses  that  he  had  showed  them ;  for  the  land  of  Sodom  was  now  like  the  garden 
of  Eden  heretofore.  Gen.  13  :  10-13.  This  therefore  provoked  him  the  more  to  jeal- 
ousy, and  made  their  plague  as  hot  as  the  fire  of  the  Lord  out  of  heaven  could  make 
it.  And  it  is  most  rationally  to  be  concluded  that  such,  even  such  as  these  are,  that 
shall  sin  in  the  sight,  yea,  and  that  too  in  despite  of  such  examples  that  are  set  con- 
tinually before  them  to  caution  them  to  the  contrary,  must  be  partakers  of  severest 
judgments. 

HOPE.  Doubtless  thou  hast  said  the  truth ;  but  what  a  mercy  it  is  that  neither 
thou,  but  especially  I,  am  not  made  myself  this  example !  This  ministereth  occasion 
to  us  to  thank  God,  to  fear  before  him,  and  always  to  remember  Lot's  wife. 

I  saw  then  that  they  went  on  their  way  to  a  pleasant  river,  which  A  river. 
David  the  king  called  " th£_rivej:. of  God  ;"  but  John,  "the  river  of  the  water  of  life." 
Psa.  65  : 9  ;  Rev.  22  :  i  ;  Ezek.  47  :  1-9.  Now  their  way  lay  just  upon  the  bank  of  this 
river ;  here,  therefore,  Christian  and  his  companion  walked  with  great  delight ;  they 
drank  also  of  the  water  of  the  river,  which  was  pleasant  and  enlivening  to  their  weary 
spirits.  Besides,  on  the  banks  of  this  river,  on  either  side,  were  green  trees  with  all 
manner  of  fruit ;  and  the  leaves  they  ate  to  prevent  surfeits  and  other  diseases  that 
are  incident  to  those  that  heat  their  blood  by  travel.  On  either  side  of  A  meadow,  in 

•  V.     «•««...'         — T~~- —  Which     they     lie 

the  river  was  also  a  meadow,  curiously  beautified  with  lilies;  and  it  was  down  to  sleep. 
green  all  the  year  long.      In  this  meadow  they  lay  down  and  slept,  for  here  they 
might  lie  down  s'afely.      Psa.  23:2;   Isa.  14:30.      When  Lliey  aWoke  Uliiy-gathered 
again  of  the  fruit  of  the  trees,  and  drank  again -of  the  water  xiiLtli£_jiyjer^ajid  then  lay 
down  again  to  sleep.     Thus  they  did  several  days  and  nights.     Then  they  sang, 

"Behold  ye  how  these  crystal  streams  do  glide, 
To  comfort  pilgrims  by  the  highway-side. 
The  meadows  green,  besides  their  fragrant  smell, 
Yield  dainties  for  them  ;  and  he  who  can  tell 
What  pleasant  fruit,  yea,  leaves  these  trees  do  yield, 
Will  soon  sell  all,  that  he  may  buy  this  field." 

So  when  they  were  disposed  to  go  on  (for  they  were  not  as  yet  at  their  journey's 
end),  they  ate  and  drank  arid  departed. 

Now  I  beheld  in  my  dream  that  they  had  not  journeyed  far,  but  the  river  and 


IN  BY-PA  TH  MEADOW. 


149 


the  way  for  a  time  parted,  at  which  they  were  not  a  little  sorry  ;  yet  they  durst  not  go 
out  of  the  way.  Now  the  way  from  the  river  was  rough,  and  their  feet  tender  by 
reason  of  their  travels  ;  so  the  souls  of  the  pilgrims  were  much  discouraged  because 
of  the  way.  Num.  21:4.  Wherefore,  still  as  they  went  on  they  wished  for  a  better 
By-path  meadow,  way.  Now,  a  little  before  them,  there  was  on  the  left  hand  of  the  road 
a  meadow  and  a  stile  to  go  over  into  it,  and  that  meadow  is  called  By-path  meadow. 
Then  said  Christian  to  his  fellow,  "If  this  meadow  lieth  along  by  our  wayside,  let  's 
go  over  into  it."  Then  he  went  to  the  stile  to  see,  and  behold,  a  path  lay  along  by 
the  way  on  the  other  side  of  the  fence.  "  It  is  according  to  my  wish,"  said  Christian  ; 
"  here  is  the  easiest  going.  Come,  good  Hopeful,  and  let  us  go  over." 

HOPE.  But  how  if  this  path  should  lead  us  out  of  the  way  ? 

"  That  is  not  likely,"  said  Christian.     "  Look,  doth  it  not  go  along  by  the  way- 
side ?" 

stron  dins-  ^°  Hopeful,  being  persuaded  by  his  fellow,  went  after  him  over  the 
wl'-'ik-  o!u  sV<,uteaof  s^ile-  When  they  were  gone  over  and  were  got  into  the  path,  they  found 
it  very  easy  for  their  feet  :  and  withal,  looking  before  them,  they  espied 
a  man  walking  as  they  did,  and  his  name  was  Vain-confide,n,Qej  _so  they  called  after 
him  and  asked  him  whither  that  way  led. 
He  said,  "  To  the  celestial  gate." 

"  Look,"  said  Christian,  "did  not  I  tell 

See  what  it  is    YOU  SO  ?     BY  this  YOU  maY  See 

rail  ^Hran0  we  are  right."      So  they  fol- 

lowed,  and  he  went  before 
them.  But  behold,  the  night  came  on 
and  it  grew  very  dark  ;  so  that  they  that 
went  behind  lost  sight  of  him  that  went 
iefore. 

He  therefore  that  went  before  (Vain- 
confidence  by  name),  not  seeing  the  way 
before  him,  fell  into  a  deep  pit,  which 

was  on  purpose  there  made  by 


the     vainglorious      -,.„,,. 

~irn •  the  prince  of  those  grounds, 
to  catch  vainglorious  fools  withal,  and  was 
dashed  in  pieces  with  his  fall.  Isa.  9: 16. 

Now  Christian  and  his  fellow  heard 
him  fall.  So  they  called  to  know  the  mat- 
ter, but  there  was  none  to  answer,  only 
they  heard  a  groaning. 

Then  said  Hopeful,  "  Where  are  we 
now  ?" 

Then  was  his   fellow  silent,  as  mis- 
trusting that  he  had  led  him  out  of  the  way ;  and  now  it  began  to  rain  and  thunder 
and  lighten  in  a  most  dreadful  manner,  and  the  water  rose  amain. 


VAIN-CONFIDKNCE. 


150  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

Then  Hopeful  groaned  in  himself,  saying,  "  Oh,  that  I  had  kept  on  my  way !" 

CHR.  Who  could  have  thought  that  this  path  should  have  led  us  out  of  the 
way? 

HOPE.  I  was  afraid  on  't  at  the  very  first,  and  therefore  gave  you  that  gentle 
caution.     I  would  have  spoken  plainer,  but  that  you  are  older  than  I. 

CHR.  Good  brother,  be  not  offended ;  I  am  sorry  I  have  brought  thee       Chri8tian's  re- 
out  of  the  way  and  that  I  have  put  thee  into  such  imminent  danger, 
Pray,  my  brother,  forgive  me ;  I  did  not  do  it  of  an  evil  intent. 

HOPE.  Be  comforted,  my  brother,  for  I  forgive  thee ;  and  believe,  too,  that  this 
shall  be  for  our  good. 

CHR.  I  am  glad  I  have  with  me  a  merciful  brother.     But  we  must  not  stand  here ; 
let  us  try  to  go  back  again. 

HOPE.  But,  good  brother,  let  me  go  before. 

CHR.  No,  if  you  please,  let  me  go  first,  that  if  there  be  any  danger  I  may  be  first 
therein,  because  by  my  means  we  are  both  gone  out  of  the  way. 

"No,"  said  Hopeful,  "you  shall  not  go  first,  for  your  mind  being  troubled  may 
lead  you  out  of  the  way  again."  Then  for  their  encouragement  they  heard  the  voice 
of  one  saying,  "  Let  thy  heart  be  towards  the  highway,  even  the  way  that  thou  went- 
est:  turn  again."  Jer.  31:21.  But  by  this  time  the  waters  were  greatly  risen,  by 
reason  of  which  the  way  of  going  back  was  very  dangerous.  Then  I  T]ie  pilgrimg  in 
thought  that  it  is  easier  going  out  of  the  way  when  we  are  in  than  going  jngngearsofthCe™Wg0 
in  when  we  are  out.  Yet  they  adventured  to  go  back ;  but  it  was  so  dark,  oack- 
and  the  flood  was  so  high,  that  in  their  going  back  they  had  like  to  have  been 
drowned  nine  or  ten  times. 

Neither  could  they,  with  all  the  skill  they  had,  get  again  to  the  stile  that  night. 
Wherefore  at  last,  lighting  under  a  little  shelter,  they  sat  down  there  till       They  sleep  in 

„  ,  the     grounds     of 

the  day  broke ;  but  being  weary,  they  fell  asleep.  Now  there  was,  not  Giant  Despair. 
far  from  the  place  where  they  lay,  a  castle,  called  Doubting  Castle,  the  ownerja^kereof 
was  Giant  Despair,  and  it  was  in  his  grounds  they  now  were  sleeping :  wherefore  he, 
getting  up  in  the  morning  early  and  walking  up  and  down  in  his  fields,  caught  Chris- 
tian and  Hopeful  asleep  in  his  grounds.  Then  with  a  grim  and  surly  voice  he  bid 
them  awake,  and  asked  them  whence  they  were  and  what  they  did  in  his  grounds. 
They  told  him  they  ^vere  pilgrims,  and  that  they  had  lost  their  way.  Heflndstiiemin 
Then  said  the  giant, "  You  have  this  night  trespassed  on  me  by  tram-  c^Ties°tlhem  into 
pling  in  and  lying  on  my  grounds,  and  therefore  you  must  go  along  with  Doubting  Castle- 
me."  So  they  were  forced  to  go  because  he  was  stronger  than  they.  They  also  had 
but  little  to  say,  for  they  knew  themselves  in  a  fault.  The  giant  therefore  drove  them 
before  him  and  put  them Juto  his  castle,  into  a  very  dark  dungeon,  nasty  and  stinking 
to  the  spirits  of  tfiese  two  men.  Here  then  they  lay  from  Wednesday  morning  till 
Saturday  night,  without  one  bit  of  bread  or  drop  of  drink  or  light  or  any  to  ask  how 
they  did ;  they  were  therefore  here  in  evil  case,  and  were  far  from  friends  and 
acquaintance.  Psa.  88:18.  Now  in  this  place  Christian  had  double  sorrow,  because 
it  was  through  his  unadvised  counsel  that  they  were  brought  into  this  distress. 


GIANT  DESPAIR. 


152  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

Now  Giant  Despair  had  a  wife,  and  her  name  was  Diffidence :  so  when  he  was 
gone  to  bed  he  told  his  wife  what  he  had  done,  to  wit,  that  he  had  taken  a  couple 
of  prisoners  and  cast  them  into  his  dungeon  for  trespassing  on  his  grounds.  Then 
he  asked  her  also  what  he  had  best  do  further  to  them.  So  she  asked  him  what  they 
were,  whence  they  came,  and  whither  they  were  bound,  and  he  told  her.  Then  she 
counselled  him  that  when  he  arose  in  the  morning  he  should  beat  them  without 
mercy.  So  when  he  arose,  he  getteth  him  a  grievous  crab-tree  cudgel,  and  goes  down 
into  the  dungeon  to  them,  and  there  first  falls  to  rating  of  them  as  if  they  were  dogs, 
although  they  gave  him  never  a  word  of  distaste.  Then  he  falls  upon  them  and  beats 
them*  fearfully,  in  such  sort  that  they  were  not  able  to  help  themselves  ()n  Tlnirsrta 
or  to  turn  them  upon  the  floor.  This  done,  he  withdraws  and  leaves  j;^  ll'j|,c  p^j^ 
them  there  to  condole  their  misery  and  to  mourn  under  their  distress :  (>1S- 
so  all  that  day  they  spent  their  time  in  nothing  but  sighs  and  bitter  lamentations. 
The  next  night,  she,  talking  with  her  husband  further  about  them,  and  under- 
standing that  they  were  yet  alive,  did  advise  him  to  counsel  them  to  make  away  with 
themselves.  So  when  the  morning  was  come  he  goes  to  them  in  a  surly  manner,  as 
before,  and  perceiving  them  to  be  very  sore  with  the  stripes  that  he  had  given  them 
the  day  before,  he  told  them  that  since  they  were  never  like  to  come  out  of  that  place, 
their  only  way  would  be  forthwith  to  make  an  end  of  themselves,  either  On  FrWa 

with  knife,  halter,  or  poison.     "  For  why,"  said  he,  "  should  you  choose  to  ^0^1? "em*  to 
live,  seeing  it  is  attended  with  so  much  bitterness  ?"     But  they  desired  v 
him  to  let  them  go.     With  that  he  looked  ugly  upon  them,  and  rushing  to  them  had 
doubtless  made  an  end  of  them  himself,  but  that  he  fell  into  one  of  his  fits  (for  he 
sometimes  in  sunshiny  weather  fell  into  fits),  and  lost  for  a  time  the  use  of  his  hands; 
wherefore  he  withdrew  and  left  them  as  before  to  consider  what  to  do.     Then  did  the 
prisoners  consult  between  themselves  whether  it  was  best  to  take  his  counsel  or  no 
and  thus  they  began  to  discourse  : 

"Brother,"  said   Christian,  "what  shall  we  do?    The  life  that  we  now  live  is 
miserable.     For  my  part  I  know  not  whether  it  is  best  to  live  thus  or  to  die  out 
of  hand.     My  soul  chooseth  strangling  rather  than  life,  and  the  grave      niriRtlan  sorolv 
is  more  easy  for  me  than  this  dungeon.     Job  7:15.     Shall  we  be  ruled  dislieimened- 
by  the  giant?" 

HOPE.  Indeed  our  present  condition  is  dreadful,  and  death  would  be  far  more 
welcome  to  me  than  thus  for  ever  to  abide ;  but  yet  let  us  consider,  the  Lord  of  the 
country  to  which  we  are  going  hath  said,  "Thou  shalt  do  no  murder,"  no,  not  to 
another  man's  person;  much  more,  then,  are  we  forbidden  to  take  his  counsel  to 
kill  ourselves.  Besides,  he  that  kills  another  can  but  commit  murder  upon  his  body ; 
but  for  one  to  kill  himself  is  to  kill  body  and  soul  at  once.  And  moreover,  my 
brother,  thou  talkest  of  ease  in  the  grave;  but  hast  thou  forgotten  nopefui com- 
the  hell  whither  for  certain  the  murderers  go?  for  "no  murderer  hath  f 
eternal  life,"  etc.  And  let  us  consider,  again,  that  all  the  law  is  not  in  the  hand 
of  Giant  Despair;  others,  so  far  as  I  can  understand,  have  been  taken  by  him  as 
well  as  we,  and  yet  have  escaped  out  of  his  hands.  Who  knows  but  that  God  who 


•20 


"  THIS   DONK,   HE   LEAVES   THEM   THERE  TO   CONDOLE  THEIR   MISERY." 


154  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

made  the  world  may  cause  that  Giant  Despair  may  die ;  or  that,  at  some  time  or 
other,  he  may  forgot  to  lock  us  in ;  or  that  he  may  in  a  short  time  have  another  of  his 
fits  before  us  and  may  lose  the  use  of  his  limbs  ?  And  if  ever  that  should  come  to 
pass  again,  for  my  part  I  am  resolved  to  pluck  up  the  heart  of  a  man  and  to  try  my 
utmost  to  get  from  under  his  hand.  I  was  a  fool  that  I  did  not  try  to  do  it  before. 
But,  however,  my  brother,  let  us  be  patient  and  endure  a  while :  the  time  may  come 
that  may  give  us  a  happy  release ;  but  let  us  not  be  our  own  murderers. 

With  these  words  Hopeful  at  present  did  moderate  the  mind  of  his  brother ; 
so  they  continued  together  in  the  dark  that  day  in  their  sad  and  doleful  condition. 

Well,  towards  evening  the  giant  goes  down  into  the  dungeon  again  to  see  if  his 
prisoners  had  taken  his  counsel.  But  when  he  came  there  he  found  them  alive  ;  and 
truly,  alive  was  all ;  for  now,  what  for  want  of  bread  and  water,  and  by  reason  of 
the  wounds  they  received  when  he  beat  them,  they  could  do  little  but  breathe.  But 
I  say  he  found  them  alive ;  at  which  he  fell  into  a  grievous  rage  and  told  them  that, 
seeing  they  had  disobeyed  his  counsel,  it  should  be  worse  with  them  than  if  they 
had  never  been  born. 

At  this  they  trembled  greatly,  and  I  think  that  Christian  fell  into  a  swoon ;  but 
coming  a  little  to  himself  again,  they  renewed  their  discourse  about  the  giant's 
counsel  and  whether  yet  they  had  best  take  it  or  no.  Now  Christian  again  seemed 
for  doing  it ;  but  Hopeful  made  his  second  reply  as  followeth  : 

"  My  brother,"  said  Hopeful,  "  rememberest  thou  not  how  valiant  thou  hast  been 
heretofore  ?  Apollyon  could  not  crush  thee,  nor  could  all  that  thou  didst  pipeful  com- 
hear  or  see  or  feel  in  the  valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death.  What  hard-  caron*  nfrmer 

..  1  -  tilings  to  reniein- 

ship,  terror,  and  amazement  hast  thou  already  gone  through ;  and  art  brance. 
thou  now  nothing  but  fears  ?     Thou  seest  that  I  am  in  the  dungeon  with  thee,  a  far 
weaker  man  by  nature  than  thou  art.    Also  this  giant  hath  wounded  me  as  well  as  thee 
and  hath  also  cut  off  the  bread  and  water  from  my  mouth,  and  with  thee  I  mourn 
without  the  light.     But  let  us  exercise  a  little  more  patience.     Remember  how  thou 
playedst  the  man  at  Vanity  Fair,  and  wast  neither  afraid  of  the  chain  nor  cage  nor 
yet  of  bloody  death :  wherefore  let  us  (at  least  to  avoid  the  shame  that  it  becomes 
not  a  Christian  to  be  found  in)  bear  up  with  patience  as  well  as  we  can." 

Now  night  being  come  again,  and  the  giant  and  his  wife  being  in  bed,  she  asked 
him  concerning  the  prisoners  and  if  they  had  taken  his  counsel :  to  which  he  replied, 
"They  are  sturdy  rogues;  they  choose  rather  to  bear  all  hardships  than  to  make 
away  with  themselves."  Then  said  she,  "  Take  them  into  the  castle-yard  to-morrow 
and  show  them  the  bones  and  skulls  of  those  that  thou  hast  already  despatched,  and 
make  them  believe,  ere  a  week  comes  to  an  end,  thou  wilt  tear  them  in  pieces  as  thou 
hast  done  their  fellows  before  them." 

So  when  the  morning  was  come,  the  giant  goes  to  them  again  and  takes  them 
into  the  castle-yard,  and  shows  them  as  his  wife  had  bidden  him.  on  Saturday 

«  OM.  "        -J   -U  -1  i    J.-L.  j    tne   £iant   threat- 

"  These,    said  he,  "were  pilgrims,  as  you  are,  once,  and  they  trespassed  enwi  that  shortly 
on  my  grounds  as  you  have  done ;  and  when  I  thought  fit  I  tore  them  in  them  in  pieces. u 
pieces;  and  so  within  ten  days  I  will  do  you :  get  you  down  to  your  den  again."     And 


THE  PILGRIMS  ESCAPE.  155 

with  that  he  beat  them  all  the  way  thither.  They  lay  therefore  all  day  on  Saturday 
in  a  lamentable  case  as  before.  Now  when  night  was  come,  and  when  Mrs.  Diffi- 
dence and  her  husband  were  got  to  bed,  they  began  to  renew  their  discourse  of  their 
prisoners ;  and  withal,  the  old  giant  wondered  that  he  could  neither  by  his  blows  nor 
counsel  bring  them  to  an  end.  And  with  that  his  wife  replied,  "I  fear, ".said  she, 
"  that  they  live  in  hopes  that  some  will  come  to  relieve  them ;  or  that  they  have  pick- 
locks about  them  by  the  means  of  which  they  hope  to  escape." 

"And  sayest  thou  so,  my  dear?"  said  the  giant.  "  I  will  therefore  search  them  in 
the  morning." 

Well,  on  Saturday,  about  midnight,  they  began  to  pray,  and  continued  in  prayer 
till  almost  break  of  day. 

Now,  a  little  before  it  was  day,  good  Christian,  as  one  half  amazed,  broke  out  into 

this  passionate  speech:  "What  a  fool,"  quoth  he,  "am  I,  thus  to  lie  in  a  stinking 

A  key  in  ciiris-  dungeon  when  I  may  as  well  walk  at  liberty !    I  have  a  key  in  my  bosom, 

tian's  bosom,  call-         11     ,    -„  .  ,  M1     T  ,     ,  ^ 

ed  Promise,  opens  called  Promise,  that  will,  1  am  persuaded,  open  any  lock  in  Doubting1 

any  lock  in  Doubt-     _.  J 

ing  Castle.  Castle. 

Then  said  Hopeful,  "  That  is  good  news ;  good  brother,  pluck  it  out  of  thy  bosom 
and  try." 

Then  Christian  pulled  it  out  of  his  bosom  and  began  to  try  at  the  dungeon-door, 
whose  bolt,  as  he  turned  the  key,  gave  back,  and  the  door  flew  open  with  ease,  and 
Christian  and  Hopeful  both  came  out.  Then  he  went  to  the  outward  door  that  leads 
into  the  castle-yard,  and  with  his  key  opened  that  door  also.  After  that  he  went 
to  the  iron  gate,  for  that  must  be  opened  too ;  but  that  lock  went  desperately  hard,  yet 
the  key  did  open  it.  Then  they  thrust  open  the  gate  to  make  their  escape  with 
speed ;  but  that  gate,  as  it  opened,  made  such  a  creaking  that  it  waked  Giant  Despair, 
who,  hastily  rising  to  pursue  his  prisoners,  felt  his  limbs  to  fail,  for  his  fits  took  him 
again  so  that  he  could  by  no  means  go  after  them.  Then  they  went  on  and  came 
to  the  King's  highway,  and  so  were  safe  because  they  were  out  of  his  jurisdiction. 

Now,  when  they  were  gone  over  the  stile,  they  began  to  contrive  with  themselves 

what  they  should  do  at  that  stile  to  prevent  those  that  shall  come  after  from  falling 

into  the  hands  of  Giant  Despair.     So  they  consented  to  erect  there  a  pillar,  and  to  en- 

A  piiiar  erected  grave  upon  the  side  thereof  this  sentence  :  "  Over  this  stile  is  the  way  to 

hv   Oliristiin    *ind 

his  feiiow.  Doubting  Castle,  which  is  kept  by  Giant  Despair,  who  despiseth  the 

King  of  the  celestial  country  and  seeks  to  destroy  his  holy  pilgrims."  Many  there- 
fore that  followed  after,  read  what  was  written  and  escaped  the  danger.  This  done, 
they  sang  as  follows : 

"  Out  of  the  way  we  went,  and  then  we  found 

What 't  was  to  tread  upon  forbidden  ground ; 

And  let  them  that  come  after  have  a  care, 

Lest  heedlessness  make  them  as  we  to  fare ; 

Lest  they,  for  trespassing,  his  prisoners  are 

Whose  castle  's  Doubting  and  whose  name 's  Des"pair." 


156  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


THE  EIGHTH  STAGE. 

THEY  went  then  till  they  came  to  the  Delectable  mountains,  which       The  Delectable 
mountains  belong   to  the  Lord  of  that  hill  of  which  we  have  spoken  mountaius- 
before.     So  they  went  up  to  the  mountains  to  behold  the  gardens  and  orchards,  the 
vineyards  and  fountains  of  water ;  where  also  they  drank  and  washed  themselves,  and 
did  freely  eat  of  the  vineyards.     Now  there  were  on  the  tops  of  these  mountains 
shepherds  feeding  their  flocks,  and  they  stood  by  the  highway-side.     The  pilgrims 
therefore  went  to  them,  and  leaning  on  their  staffs  (as  is  common  with       Talk  with  tlie 
weary  pilgrims  when    they  stand   to  talk  with  any   by  the  way),  they  sheP'iei'ds- 
asked,  "  Whose  Delectable  mountains  are  these ;  and  whose  be  the  sheep  that  feed 
upon  them  ?" 

SHEP.  These  mountains  are  Emmanuel's  land,  and  they  are  within  sight  of  his 
city ;  and  the  sheep  also  are  his,  and  he  laid  down  his  life  for  them.  John  10: 1 1,  15. 

CHR.  Is  this  the  way  to  the  celestial  city  ? 

SHEP.  You  are  just  in  your  way. 

CHR.  How  far  is  it  thither? 

SHEP.  Too  far  for  any  but  those  who  shall  get  thither  indeed. 

CHR.  Is  the  way  safe  or  dangerous? 

SHEP.  »are  tor  tnose  for  whom  it  is  to  be  safe,  but  transgressors  shall  fall  therein, 
Hosea  14:9. 

CHR.  Is  there  in  this  place  any  relief  for  pilgrims  that  are  weary  and  faint  in  the 
way  r 

SHEP.  The  Lord  of  these  mountains  hath  given  us  charge  not  to  be  forgetful  to 
entertain  strangers,  Heb.  13:2;  therefore  the  good  of  the  place  is  before  you. 

I  saw  also  in  my  dream  that  when  the  shepherds  perceived  that  they  were  way- 
faring men,  they  also  put  questions  to  them  (to  which  they  made  answer  as  in  other 
places),  as,  "  Whence  came  you  ?"  and,  "  How  got  you  into  the  way  ?"  and,  "  By  what 
means  have  you  so  persevered  therein  ?  for  but  few  of  them  that  begin  to  come  hither 
do  show  their  face  on  these  mountains."  But  when  the  shepherds  heard  their  answers, 
being  pleased  therewith,  they  looked  very  lovingly  upon  them,  and  said,  "  Welcome 
to  the  Delectable  mountains." 

The  shepherds,  I  say,  whose  names  were  Knowledge,  Experience,  The  names  of 
Watchful^  and  Sincere,  took  them  by  the  hand  and  had  them  to  their  the  shePUerds- 
tents  and  made  them  partake  of  that  which  was  ready  at  present.  They  said,  more- 
over, "  We  would  that  you  should  stay  here  a  while  to  be  acquainted  with  us,  and  yet 
more  to  solace  yourselves  with  the  good  of  these  Delectable  mountains."  Then  they 
told  them  that  they  were  content  to  stay.  So  they  went  to  their  rest  that  night,  be- 
cause it  was  very  late. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  in  the  morning  the  shepherds  called  up  Christian 
and  Hopeful  to  walk  with  them  upon  the  mountains.  So  they  went  forth  with  them. 


IN  THE  DELECTABLE  MOUNTAINS. 


157 


shown 
the  mountain  oi 
Error. 


and  walked  a  while,  having  a  pleasant  prospect  on  every  side.  Then  said  the  shep- 
herds  one  to  another,  "Shall  we  show  these  pilgrims  some  wonders?"  So 
when  they  had  concluded  to  do  it,  they  had  them  first  to  the  top  of  a  hill 

called  Error,  which  was  very  steep  on  the 
farthest  side,  and  bid  them  look  down  to 
the  bottom.  So  Christian  and  Hopeful 
looked  down  and  saw  at  the  bottom  sev- 
eral men  dashed  all  to  pieces  by  a  fall 
that  they  had  from  the  top. 

Then  said  Christian,  "  What  meaneth 
this?" 

The  shepherds  answered,  "  Have  you 
not  heard  of  them  that  were  made  to  err 
by  hearkening  to  Hymencus  and  I'hiletus, 
as  concerning  the  faith  of  the  resurrection 
of  the  body?"  2  Tim.  2:17,  18.  They 
answered,  "  Yes."  Then  said  the  shep- 
herds, "  Those  that  you  see  lie  dashed  in 
pieces  at  the  bottom  of  this  mountain  are 
they ;  and  they  have  continued  to  this  day 
unburied,  as  you  see,  for  an  example  to 
others  to  take  heed  how  they  clamber  too 
high,  or  how  they  come  too  near  the  brink 
of  this  mountain." 

Then  I  saw  that  they  had  them  to  the 
MI.  caution,  top  of  another  niountain,  and 
the  name  of  that  is  Caution,  and  bid  them 


'SHALL  WE  SHOW  THESE  PILGRIMS  SOME  WONDERS?' 


look  afar  off;  which  when  they  did  they 

perceived,  as  they  thought,  several  men  walking  up  and  down  among  the  tombs  that 
were  there ;  and  they  perceived  that  the  men  were  blind,  because  they  stumbled  some- 
times upon  the  tombs,  and  because  they  could  not  get  out  from  among  them. 

Then  said  Christian,  "What  means  this?" 

The  shepherds  then  answered,  "  Did  you  not  see,  a  little  below  these  mountains, 
a  stile  that  led  into  a  meadow,  on  the  left  hand  of  this  way  ?"  They  answered,  "Yes." 
Then  said  the  shepherds,  "  From  that  stile  there  goes  a  path  that  leads  directly  to 
Doubting  Castle,  which  is  kept  by  Giant  Despair;  and  these-men,"  pointing  to  them 
among  the  tombs,  "  came  once  on  pilgrimage,  as  you  do  now,  even  until  they  came 
to  that  same  stile.  And  because  the  right  way  was  rough  in  that  place,  they  chose  to 
go  out  of  it  into  that  meadow,  and  there  were  taken  by  Giant  Despair  and  cast  into 
Doubting  Castle ;  where,  after  they  had  a  while  been  kept  in  the  dungeon,  he  at  last 
did  put  out  their  eyes  and  led  them  among  the  tombs,  where  he  has  left  them  to 
wander  to  this  very  day,  that  the  saying  of  the  wise  man  might  be  fulfilled :  '  He-that 
wandereth  out  of  the  way  of  understanding  shall  remain  in  the  congregation  of  the 


158  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

dead.'"  Prov.  21:16.  Then  Christian  and  Hopeful  looked  upon  one  another  with 
tears  gushing  out,  but  yet  said  nothing  to  the  shepherds. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  the  shepherds  had  them  to  another  place  in  a 
bottom,  where  was  a  door  on  the  side  of  a  hill ;  and  they  opened  the  door  and  bid 
them  look  in.  They  looked  in,  therefore,  and  saw  that  within  it  was  very,  dark  and 
smoky;  they  also  thought  that  they  heard  there  a  rumbling  noise,  as  of  fire,  and  a  cry 
of  some  tormented,  and  that  they  smelt  the  scent  of  brimstone. 

Then  said  Christian,  "  What  means  this?" 

The  shepherds  told  them,  "  This  is  a  by-way  to  hell,  a  way  that  hypo-  A  by-way  to  hen. 
crites  go  in  at ;  namely,  such  as  sell  their  birthright,  with  Esau ;  such  as  sell  their 
Master,  with  Judas ;  such  as  blaspheme  the  gospel,  with  Alexander ;  and  that  lie  and 
dissemble,  with  Ananias  and  Sapphira  his  wife." 

Then  said  Hopeful  to  the  shepherds,  "  I  perceive  that  these  had  on  them,  even 
every  one,  a  show  of  pilgrimage,  as  we  have  now ;  had  they  not?" 

SHEP.  Yes,  and  held  it  a  long  time  too. 

HOPE.  How  far  might  they  go  on  in  pilgrimage  in  their  day,  since  they,  notwith- 
standing, were  miserably  cast  away  ? 

SHEP.  Some  farther  and  some  not  so  far  as  these  mountains. 

Then  said  the  pilgrims  one  to  the  other,  "  We  had  need  cry  to  the  Strong  for 
strength." 

SHEP.  Ay,  and  you  will  have  need  to  use  it  when  you  have  it  too." 

By  this  time  the  pilgrims  had  a  desire  to  go  forward,  and  the  shepherds  a  desire 
they  should  ;  so  they  walked  together  towards  the  end  of  the  mountains.  Then  said 
the  shepherds  one  to  another,  "  Let  us  here  show  the  pilgrims  the  gates  of  the  celestial 
city,  if  they  have  skill  to  look  through  our  perspective-glass."  The  pil-  The perspective- 

*  glass  of  the  sliep- 

gnms  lovingly  accepted  the  motion :  so  they  had  them  to  the  top  of  a  hems, 
high  hill  called  Clear,  and  gave  them  the  glass  to  look. 

Then  they  tried  to  look;  but  the  remembrance  of  that  last  thing  that  the  shep- 
herds had  shown  them  made  their  hands  shake,   by  means   of  which      Tllc  fl.uit  of  ser. 
impediment  they  could  not  look  steadily  through  the  glass ;   yet  they  Vlle  fcar> 
thought  they  saw  something  like  the  gate,  and  also  some  of  the  glory  of  the  place. 
Then  they  went  away  and  sang, 

"Thus  by  the  shepherds  secrets  are  revealed 
Which  from  all  other  men  are  kept  concealed : 
Come  to  the  shepherds  then,  if  you  would  see 
Things  deep,  things  hid,  and  that  mysterious  be." 

When  they  were  about  to  depart  one  of  the  shepherds  gave  them  a  A  twofold  caution, 
note  of  the  way.     Another  of  tnem  bid  them  beware~T5f~the  Flatterer.     The  third_ 
bid  them  take  heed  that  they  slept  not  upon  the  Enchanted  Ground.     And  the  fourth 
bidjthgm-Gnd  spe&d.     So  I  awoke  from  my  dream. 


A  LAD  NAMED  IGNORANCE. 


159 


THE  NINTH  STAGE. 

AND  I  slept  and  dreamed  again,  and  saw  the  same  two  pilgrims  going  down  the 
The  country  of  mountains  along  the  highway  towards  the  city.    Now,  a  little  below  these 
'  mountains,  on  the  left  hand,  lieth  the  country  of  Conceit,  from  which 


country  there  comes  into  the  way  in  which  the  pilgrims  walked  a  little 
crooked  lane.  Here  therefore  they  met 
with  a  very  brisk  lad  that  came  out  of 
that  country,  and  his  name  was  Ignorance. 
So  Christian  asked  him  from  what  parts 
he  came  and  whither  he  was  going. 

IGNORANCE.  Sir,  I  was  born  in  the 
country  that  lieth  off  there,  a  little  on  the 
left  hand,  and  I  am  going  to  the  celestial 
city. 

CHR.  But  how  do  you  think  to  get  in 
at  the  gate?  for  you  may  find  some  diffi- 
culty there. 

"  As  other  good  people  do,"  said  Igno- 
rance. 

CHR.  But  what  have  you  to  show  at 
that  gate  that  the  gate  should  be  opened 
to  you  ? 

The  grounds  of  IGNO-    J    know  mY  Lord's 

Icrnorance's  hone  '11  j     1  1  T 

*fellv"    mv^  u  u*jjn*»         "\\'1   I  I          O  n  ti          nOTTO        r\£iO'fl         O        fY/~\/~\/H 
VV  JLJLJLa      L 11 1  ^  1         1  1 1  t  \  \.s       U\>s\sH.      d       ii  vJwH. 

liver ;  I  pay  every  man  his  own  ;  I  pray, 
fast,  pay  tithes,  and  give  alms,  and  have 
left  my  country  for  whither  I  am  going. 

CHR.  But  thou  earnest  not  in  at  the 
wicket-gate  that  is  at  the  head  of  this  way ; 

thou  earnest  in  hither  through  that  same  crooked  lane,  and  therefore  I  fear,  however 
thou  mayest  think  of  thyself,  when  the  reckoning-day  shall  come,  thou  wilt  have  laid 
to  thy  charge  that  thou  art  a  thief  and  a  robber,  instead  of  getting  admittance  into 
the  city. 

IGNO.  Gentlemen,  ye  be  utter  strangers  to  me ;  I  know  you  not :  be  content  to 
follow  the  religion  of  your  country,  and  I  will  follow  the  religion  of  mine.  I  hope  all 
will  be  well.  And  as  for  the  gate  that  you  talk  of,  all  the  world  knows  that  it  is  a 
great  way  off  of  our  country.  I  cannot  think  that  any  man  in  all  our  parts  doth  so 
much  as  know  the  way  to  it ;  nor  need  they  matter  whether  they  do  or  no,  since  we 
have,  as  you  see,  a  fine,  pleasant,  green  lane  that  comes  down  from  our  country,  the 
next  way  into  the  way. 


IGNORANCE. 


i6o 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


When  Christian  saw  that  the  man  was  wise  in  his  own  conceit,  he  said  to  Hopeful 
whisperingly,  " '  There  is  more  hope  of  a  fool  than  of  him.'  "  Prov.  26 :  12.  And  said, 
moreover,  "  '  When  he  that  is  a  fool  walketh  by  the  way,  his  wisdom  faileth  him,  and 
he  saith  to  every  one  that  he  is  a  fool.'  Eccl.  10:  3.  What,  shall  we  talk  HOW  to  carry  it 
further  with  him,  or  outgo  him  at  present,  and  so  leave  him  to  think  of  toaf°o1- 
what  he  hath  heard  already,  and  then  stop  again  for  him  afterwards,  and  see  if  by 
degrees  we  can  do  any  good  to  him  ?" 

Then  said  Hopeful, 

"Let  Ignorance  a  little  while  now  muse 
On  what  is  said,  and  let  him  not  refuse 
Good  counsel  to  embrace,  lest  he  remain 
Still  ignorant  of  what 's  the  chiefest  gain. 
God  saith  those  that  no  understanding  have, 
(Although  he  made  them),  them  he  will  not  save." 

Hopeful  further  added,  "  It  is  not  good,  I  think,  to  say  so  to  him  all  at  once  ;  let 
us  pass  him  by,  if  you  will,  and  talk  to  him  anon,  even  as  he  is  able  to  bear  it." 

So  they  both  went  on,  and  Ignorance  he  came  after.    Now,  when  they  had  passed 

him  a  little  way,  they  entered  into  a  very 
dark  lane  where  they  met  a  man  whom 
seven  devils  had  bound  with  seven  strong 
cords,  and  were  carrying  him  back  to  the 
door  that  they  saw  on  the  side  of  the 
hill.  Matt.  12  : 45  ;  Prov.  5  :  22.  Now  good 
Christian  began  to  tremble,  and  so  did 
Hopeful  his  companion  ;  yet,  as  the  devils 
led  away  the  man,  Christian  looked  to  see 
if  he  knew  him ;  and  he  thought  it  might 
be  one  Turn-away,  that  dwelt  in  the  town 
of  Apostasy.  But  he  did  not  perfectly  see 
his  face,  for  he  did  hang  his 
head  like  a  thief  that  is  found; 
but  being  gone  past,  Hopeful  looked  after 
him  and  espied  on  his  back  a  paper  with 
this  inscription,  "  Wanton  professor  and 
damnable  apostate." 

Then  said  Christian  to  his  fellow, 
"  Now  I  call  to  remembrance  that  which 
was  told  me  of  a  thing  that  happened  to 
a  good  man  hereabout.  The 
name  of  the  man  was  Little- 
faith,  but  a  good  man,  and  he 
dwelt  in  the  town  of  Sincere.  The  thing  was  this.  At  the  entering  in  at  this  passage 
there  comes  down  from  Broadway-gate  a  lane  called  Dead-man's  lane,  so  called  be- 


The  destruction 


"  A   MAN  WHOM   SRVEN  DEVILS   HAD   BOUND." 


Christian  telleth 

£/*  coTTi'ttiea 


21 


"  SO  THEY  CAME  UP  ALL  TO  HIM  AND  WITH  THREATENING   LANGUAGE   BID  HIM  STAND.' 


162  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

cause  of  the  murders  that  are  commonly  done  there ;  and  this  Little-faith,  going  on 
pilgrimage,  as  we  do  now,  chanced  to  sit  down  there  and  sleep.  Now  there  happened 
at  that  time  to  come  down  the  lane  from  Broadway-gate  three  sturdy  rogues,  and 
their  names  were  Faint-heart,  Mistrust,  and  Guilt,  three  brothers ;  and  they,  espying 
Little-faith  where  he  was,  came  galloping  up  with  speed.  Now  the  good  man  was 
just  awaked  from  his  sleep  and  was  getting  up  to  go  on  his  journey.  So  they  came 
up  all  to  him  and  with  threatening  language  bid  him  stand.  At  this  Little-faith 
looked  as  white  as  a  sheet,  and  had  power  neither  to  fight  nor  fly.  Then  Lit  tie-faun  robbed 

...  T-N    1  •  i    1  1   •  l).V  Faint-heart,  Mis- 

said  Faint-heart,  '  Deliver  thy  purse ;  but  he  making  no  haste  to  do  it  trust,  ami  (\\\\\\. 
(for  he  was  loath  to  lose  his  money),  Mistrust  ran  up  to  him  and  thrusting  his  hand 
into  his  pocket,  pulled  out  thence  a  bag  of  silver.  Then  he  cried  out,  '  Thieves, 
thieves !'  With  that,  Guilt,  with  a  great  club  that  was  in  his  hand,  struck  Little-faith 
on  the  head,  and  with  that  blow  felled  him  flat  to  the  ground,  where  he  lay  bleeding 
as  one  that  would  bleed  to  death.  All  this  while  the  thieves  stood  by.  But  at  last 
they,  hearing  that  some  were  upon  the  road,  and  fearing  lest  it  should  be  one  Great- 
grace  that  dwells,  in  the  town  of  Good-confidence,  they  betook  themselves  to  their 
heels  and  left  this  good  man  to  shift  for  himself.  Now  after  a  while  Little-faith 
came  to  himself,  and  getting  up  made  shift  to  scramble  on  his  way.  This  was  the 
story. 

HOPE.  But  did  they  take  from  him  all  that  ever  he  had  ? 

CIIR.  No  ;  the  place  where  his  jewels  were  they  never  ransacked;  so  Littie-raith lost 
those  he  kept  still.  But,  as  I  was  told,  the  good  man  was  much  afflicted  not  llis  best  tllillgs> 
for  his  loss ;  for  the  thieves  got  most  of  his  spending-money.  That  which  they  got 
not,  as  I  said,  were  jewels ;  also,  he  had  a  little  odd  money  left,  but  scarce  enough  to 
bring  him  to  his  journey's  end.  Nay  (if  I  was  not  misinformed),  he  was  Littie-faith  forced 
forced  to  beg  as  he  went,  to  keep  himself  alive,  for  his  jewels  he  might  neys  end. 
not  sell ;  but  beg  and  do  what  he  could,  he  went,  as  we  say,  with  many  a  hungry  belly 
the  most  part  of  the  rest  of  the  way.  i  Pet.  4:18. 

HOPE.  But  is  it  not  a  wonder  they  got  not  from  him  his  certificate  by  which  he 
was  to  receive  his  admittance  at  the  celestial  gate  ? 

CHR.  It  is  a  wonder ;  but  they  got  not  that,  though  they  missed  it     He  kept  not  ins 

; .    ,   .          -         .,  .  -,.  -,1  .       best  ihiiifj-s  'n  his 

not  through  any  good  cunning  of  his ;  for  he,  being  dismayed  by  their  own  cunning. 
coming  upon  him,  had  neither  power  nor  skill  to  hide  anything:    so  it  was  more  by 
good  providence  than  by  his  endeavor  that  they  missed  of  that  good  thing.     2  Tim. 
i  :  12-14;    2  Pet-  2  :  9. 

HOPE.  But  it  must  needs  be  a  comfort  to  him  that  they  got  not  this  jewel  from- 
him. 

CHR.  It  might  have  been  great  comfort  to  him  had  he  used  it  as  he  should ;  but 
they  that  told  me  the  story  said  that  he  made  but  little  use  of  it  all  the  rest  of  the  way, 
and  that  because  of  the  dismay  that  he  had  in  their  taking  away  his  money.  Indeed, 
he  forgot  it  a  great  part  of  the  rest  of  his  journey ;  and  besides,  when  at  any  time  it 
came  into  his  mind,  and  he  began  to  be  comforted  therewith,  then  would  fresh 
thoughts  of  his  loss  come  again  upon  him,  and  these  thoughts  would  swallow  up  all. 


LITTLE-FAITH  BETTER  THAN  ESA  U.  163 

He  is  pitied  by  HOPE.  Alas,  poor  man,  this  could  not  but  be  a  great  grief  to  him. 

them botu.  CHR    Grief?  ay>  a  grief  indeed!     Would  it  not  have  been  so  to  any 

of  us  had  we  been  used  as  he — to  be  robbed  and  wounded  too,  and  that  in  a  strange 
place,  as  he  was  ?  It  is  a  wonder  he  did  not  die  with  grief,  poor  heart.  I  was  told 
that  he  scattered  almost  all  the  rest  of  the  way  with  nothing  but  doleful  and  bitter 
complaints ;  telling  also  to  all  that  overtook  him,  or  that  he  overtook  in  the  way  as  he 
went,  where  he  was  robbed,  and  how ;  who  they  were  that  did  it,  and  what  he  had 
lost ;  how  he  was  wounded,  and  that  he  hardly  escaped  with  life. 

HOPE.  But  it  is  a  wonder  that  his  necessity  did  not  put  him  upon  selling  or 
pawning  some  of  his  jewels,  that  he  might  have  wherewith  to  relieve  himself  in  his 
journey. 

Christian  reprov-  CHR..  Thou  talkest  like  one  upon  whose  head  is  a  shell  to  this  very 
unlJvi^uy^pea^  da7-  For  wnat  should  he  pawn  them  ?  or  to  whom  should  he  sell  them  ? 
In  all  that  country  where  he  was  robbed  his  jewels  were  not  accounted  of; 
nor  did  he  want  that  relief  which  could  from  thence  be  administered  to  him.  Besides, 
had  his  jewels  been  missing  at  the  gate  of  the  celestial  city,  he  had  (and  that  he  knew 
well  enough)  been  excluded  from  an  inheritance  there,  and  that  would  have  been 
worse  to  him  than  the  appearance  and  villany  of  ten  thousand  thieves. 

HOPE.  Why  art  thou  so  tart,  my  brother  ?  Esau  sold  his  birthright,  and  that  for 
a  mess  of  pottage,  Heb.  12:16;  and  that  birthright  was  his  greatest  jewel:  and  if  he, 
why  might  not  Little-faith  do  so  too  ? 

CHR.  Esau  did  sell  his  birthright  indeed,  and  so  do  many  besides,  and  by  so  do- 
Discourse  about  ing  exclude  themselves  from  the  chief  blessing ,  as  also  that  caitiff  did ; 

Esau  and  Little- 
faith,  but  you  must  put  a  difference  between  Esau  and  Little-faith,  and  also  be- 
tween their  estates.  Esau's  birthright  was  typical ;  but  Little-faith's  jewels  were  not 
so.  Esau's  belly  was  his  god ;  but  Little-faith's  belly  was  not  so.  Esau's  want  lay  in 
his  fleshly  appetite ;  Little-faith's  did  not  so.  Besides,  Esau  could  see  no  further  than 
to  the  fulfilling  of  his  lusts :  "  Behold,  I  am  at  the  point  to  die,"  said  he,  "  and  what 
profit  shall  this  birthright  do  to  me?"  Gen.  25  :  32.  But  Little-faith,  though  it  was 
his  lot  to  have  but  a  little  faith,  was  by  his  little  faith  kept  from  such  extravagances, 
and  made  to  see  and  prize  his  jewels  more  than  to  sell  them,  as  Esau  did  his  birth- 
right. You  read  not  anywhere  that  Esau  had  faith,  no,  not  so  much  as  a  little ;  there- 
fore no  marvel,  where  the  flesh  only  bears  sway  (as  it  will  in  that  man  where  no  faith 
is  to  resist),  if  he  sells  his  birthright  and  his  soul  and  all,  and  that  to  the  devil  of  hell. 
For  it  is  with  such  as  it  is  with  the  ass,  who  in  her  occasion  cannot  be  turned  away, 
Jer.  2  -.24:  when  their  minds  are  set  upon  their  lusts,  they  will  have  them,  whatever 
they  cost.  But  Little-faith  was  of  another  temper ;  his  mind  was  on  things  divine ; 
his  livelihood  was  upon  things  that  were  spiritual  and  from  above :  therefore  to  what 
end  should  he  that  is  of  such  a  temper  sell  his  jewels  (had  there  been  any  that  would 
have  bought  them)  to  fill  his  mind  with  empty  things  ?  Will  a  man  give  a  penny  to 
fill  his  belly  with  hay ;  or  can  you  persuade  the  turtledove  to  live  upon  carrion  like 
the  crow?  Though  faithless  ones  can,  for  carnal  lusts,  pawn  or  mortgage  or  sell 
what  they  have,  and  themselves  outright  to  boot;  yet  they  that  have  faith,  saving 


164  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

faith,  though  but  a  little  of  it,  cannot  do  so.      Here,  therefore,  my  brother,  is  thy 
mistake. 

HOPE.  I  acknowledge  it ;  but  yet  your  severe  reflection  had  almost  made  me  angry. 

CHR.  Why,  I  did  but  compare  thee  to  some  of  the  birds  that  are  of  the  brisker 
sort,  who  will  run  to  and  fro  in  untrodden  paths  with  the  shell  upon  their  heads :  but 
pass  by  that  and  consider  the  matter  under  debate,  and  all  shall  be  well  between  thee 
and  me. 

HOPE.  But,  Christian,  these  three  fellows,  I  am  persuaded  in  my  heart,  are  but  a 
company  of  cowards.     Would  they  have  run  else,  think  you,  as  they  did,        Hopeful  swa-r- 
at  the  noise  of  one  that  was  coming  on  the  road  ?     Why  did  not  Little-  gers- 
faith  pluck  up  a  greater  heart?     He  might,  methinks,  have  stood  one  brush  with 
them,  and  have  yielded  when  there  had  been  no  remedy. 

CHR.  That  they  are  cowards  many  have  said,  but  few  have  found  it  so  in  the 
time  of  trial.  As  for  a  great  heart,  Little-faith  had  none  ;  and  I  perceive  by  thee,  my 
brother,  hadst  thou  been  the  man  concerned,  thou  art  but  for  a  brush  and  Wc  ]i.ive  more 
then  to.  yield.  And  verily,  since  this  is  the  height  of  thy  stomach  now  ^^tiSfwhln 
they  are  at  a  distance  from  us,  should  they  appear  to  thee  as  they  did  to  we  are  in- 
him,  they  might  put  thee  to  second  thoughts. 

But  consider,  again,  that  they  are  but  journeymen  thieves ;  they  serve  under  the 
king  of  the  bottomless  pit,  who,  if  need  be,  will  come  to  their  aid  himself,  Christian  tens 

J-L.-  ••  -L-U  •  r       1-  -ni.          or  -ir  -L.  hls    ow"    exPeri' 

and  his  voice  is  as  the  roaring  of  a  lion,  i  Pet.  5:8.  I  myself  have  been  ence  in  this  case. 
engaged  as  this  Little-faith  was,  and  I  found  it  a  terrible  thing.  These  three  villains 
set  upon  me,  and  I,  beginning  like  a  Christian  to  resist,  they  gave  but  a  call,  and  in 
came  their  master.  I  would,  as  the  saying  is,  have  given  my  life  for  a  penny, 
but  that,  as  God  would  have  it,  I  was  clothed  with  armor  of  proof.  Ay,  and  yet, 
though  I  was  so  harnessed,  I  found  it  hard  work  to  quit  myself  like  a  man :  no  man 
can  tell  what  in  that  combat  attends  us  but  he  that  hath  been  in  the  battle  himself. 

HOPE.  Well,  but  they  ran,  you  see,  when  they  did  but  suppose  that  one  Great- 
grace  was  in  the  way. 

CHR.  True,  they  have  often  fled,  both  they  and  their  master,  when  Great-grace 
hath  but  appeared  ;  and  no  marvel,  for  he  is  the  King's  champion.  But  I  trow  you 
will  put  some  difference  between  Little-faith  and  the  King's  champion.  All  the 
King's  subjects  are  not  his  champions ;  nor  can  they,  when  tried,  do  such  feats 
of  war  as  he.  Is  it  meet  to  think  that  a  little  child  should  handle  Goliath  as  David 
did ;  or  that  there  should  be  the  strength  of  an  ox  in  a  wren  ?  Some  are  strong, 
some  are  weak ;  some  have  great  faith,  some  have  little ;  this  man  was  one  of  the 
weak,  and  therefore  he  went  to  the  wall. 

HOPE.  I  would  it  had  been  Great-grace  for  their  sakes. 

CHR.  If  it  had  been  he,  he  might  have  had  his  hands  full ;  for  I  must  tell  you 
that  though  Great-grace  is  excellent  .good  at  his  weapons,  and  has,  and  can,  so  long  as 
he  keeps  them  at  sword's  point,  do  well  enough  with  them ;  yet  if  they  get  within 
him,  even  Faint-heart,  Mistrust,  or  the  other,  it  shall  go  hard  but  they  will  throw 
up  his  heels.  And  when  a  man  is  down,  you  know,  what  can  he  do  ? 


PILGRIMS  NEED  DIVINE  SUCCOR.  165 

Whoso  looks  well  upon  Great-grace's  face  will  see  those  scars  and  cuts  there  that 
shall  easily  give  demonstration  of  what  I  say.*  Yea,  once  I  heard  that  he  should  say 
(and  that  when  he  was  in  the  combat),  "  We  despaired  even  of  life."  How  did  these 
sturdy  rogues  and  their  fellows  make  David  groan,  mourn,  and  roar !  Yea,  Heman, 
Psalm  88,  and  Hezekiah  too,  though  champions  in  their  days,  were  forced  to  bestir 
them  when  by  these  assaulted  ;  and  yet  notwithstanding,  they  had  their  coats  soundly 
brushed  by  them.  Peter,  tipon  a  time,  would  go  try  what  he  could  do ;  but  though 
some  do  say  of  him  that  he  is  the  prince  of  the  apostles,  they  handled  him  so  that 
they  made  him  at  last  afraid  of  a  sorry  girl. 

Besides,  their  king  is  at  their  whistle;  he  is  never  out  of  hearing;  and  if  at  any 
time  they  be  put  to  the  worst,  he,  if  possible,  comes  in  to  help  them :  and  of  him  it  is 

Leviathan's  sa^'  "  The  sword  °f  nim  that  layeth  at  him  cannot  hold :  the  spear,  the 
stuniincss.  dart,  nor  the  habergeon.  He  esteemeth  iron  as  straw,  and  brass  as 

rotten  wood.  The  arrow  cannot  make  him  fly ;  sling-stones  are  turned  with  him  into 
stubble.  Darts  are  counted  as  stubble;  he  laugheth  at  the  shaking  of  a  spear." 
Job  41 :  26-29.  What  can  a  man  do  in  this  case?  It  is  true,  if  a  man  could  at  every 
turn  have  Job's  horse,  and  had  skill  and  courage  to  ride  him,  he  might  do  notable 
The  excellent  things.  "  For  his  neck  is  clothed  with  thunder.  He  will  not  be  afraid 
job's  horse.  as  a  grasshopper :  the  glory  of  his  nostrils  is  terrible.  He  paweth  in  the 
valley  and  rejoiceth  in  his  strength ;  he  goeth  on  to  meet  the  armed  men.  He 
mocketh  at  fear  and  is  not  affrighted  ;  neither  turneth  he  back  from  the  sword.  The 
quiver  rattleth  against  him,  the  glittering  spear  and  the  shield.  He  swalloweth  the 
ground  with  fierceness  and  rage;  neither  believeth  he  that  it  is  the  sound  of  the 
trumpet.  He  saith  among  the  trumpets,  Ha,  ha!  and  he  smelleth  the  battle  afar 
off,  the  thunder  of  the  captains  and  the  shouting."  Job  39 :  19-25. 

But  for  such  footmen  as  thee  and  I  are,  let  us  never  desire  to  meet  with  an 
enemy,  nor  vaunt  as  if  we  could  do  better  when  we  hear  of  others  that  have  been 
foiled,  nor  be  tickled  at  the  thoughts  of  our  own  manhood ;  for  such  commonly  come 
by  the  worst  when  tried.  Witness  Peter,  of  whom  I  made  mention  before.  He  would 
swagger,  ay,  he  would :  he  would,  as  his  vain  mind  prompted  him  to  say,  do  better 
and  stand  more  for  his  Master  than  all  men ;  but  who  so  foiled  and  run  down  by  those 
villains  as  he  ? 

When,  therefore,  we  hear  that  such  robberies  are  done  on  the  King's  highway, 
two  things  become  us  to  do : 

i .  To  go  out  harnessed,  and  to  be  sure  to  take  a  shield  with  us :  for  it  was  for 
want  of  that  that  he  who  laid  so  lustily  at  Leviathan  could  not  make  him  yield ;  for, 
indeed,  if  that  be  wanting,  he  fears  us  not  at  all.  Therefore,  he  that  had  skill  hath 
said,  "Above  all,  take  the  shield  of  faith,  wherewith  ye  shall  be  able  to  quench  all  the 
fiery  darts' of  the  wicked."  Epn.  6: 16. 

it  is  good  to  2-  It;  is  g°od  also  that  we  desire  of  tne  KinS  a  conv°y>  Yea>  tnat  ne 

have  a  convoy.       wj^  gO  with  us  himself.     This  made  David  rejoice  when  in  the  valley 

of  the  Shadow  of  Death;  and  Moses  was  rather  for  dying  where  he  stood  than  to 
go  one  step  without  his  God.    Exod,  33  : 15.    Oh,  my  brother,  if  he  will  but  go  along 


166  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

with  us,  what  need  we  be  afraid  of  ten  thousands  that  shall  set  themselves  against 
us?  Psa.  3:  5-8;  27:  1-3.  But  without*  him  the  proud  helpers  fall  under  the  slain. 
Isa.  10:4. 

I,  for  my  part,  have  been  in  the  fray  before  now  ;  and  though  (through  the 
goodness  of  Him  that  is  best)  I  am,  as  you  see,  alive,  yet  I  cannot  boast  of  any  man- 
hood. Glad  shall  I  be  if  I  meet  with  no  more  such  brunts,  though  I  fear  we  are  not 
got  beyond  all  danger.  However,  since  the  lion  and  the  bear  have  not  as  yet 
devoured  me,  I  hope  God  will  also  deliver  us  from  the  next  uncircumcised  Philis- 
tine. 

Then  sang  Christian, 

"  Poor  Little-faith  !  hast  been  among  the  thieves  ? 
Wast  robbed  ?     Remember  this,  whoso  believes, 
And  get  more  faith  ;  then  shall  you  victor  be 
Over  ten  thousand  —  else  scarce  over  three." 

So  they  went  on  and  Ignorance  followed.  They  went  then  till  they  came  at  a 
place  where  they  saw  a  way  put  itself  into  their  way,  and  seemed  withal  A  way  aml  a 
to  lie  as  straight  as  the  way  which  they  should  go  ;  and  here  they  knew  way- 
not  which  of  the  two  to  take,  for  both  seemed  straight  before  them  ;  therefore  here 
they  stood  still  to  consider.  And  as  they  were  thinking  about  the  way,  behold,  a 
man  black  of  flesh,  but  covered  with  a  very  light  robe,  came  to  them  and  asked  them 
why  they  stood  there.  They  answered  that  they  were  going  to  the  celestial  city,  but 
knew  not  which  of  these  ways  to  take.  "  Follow  me,"  said  the  man  ;  "it  is  thither  that 
I  am  going."  So  they  followed  him  in  the  way  that  but  now  came  into  the  road, 
which  by  degrees  turned,  and  turned  them  so  far  from  the  city  that  Christian  ami 

his  fellow  are  ta- 

they  desired  to  go  to,  that  in  a  little  time  their  faces  were  turned  away  ken  in  a  not. 
from  it  ;  yet  they  followed  him.  But  by-and-by,  before  they  were  aware,  he  led  them 
both  within  the  compass  of  a  net,  in  which  they  were  both  so  entangled  that  they 
knew  not  what  to  do  ;  and  with  that  the  white  robe  fell  off  the  black  man's  back. 
Then  they  saw  where  they  were.  Wherefore  there  they  lay  crying  some  time, 
for  they  could  not  get  themselves  out. 

Then  said  Christian  to  his  fellow,  "  Now  do  I  see  myself  in  an  error.  Did  not  the 
shepherds  bid  us  beware  of  the  Flatterer?  As  is  the  saying  of  the  wise  man,  so  we 
have  found  it  this  day  :  '  A  man  that  flattereth  his  neighbor  spreadeth  a  net  for  his 
Prov.  29:  5. 


HOPE.  They  also  gave  us  a  note  of  directions  about  the  way,  for  our  more  sure 
finding  thereof  ;  but  therein  we  have  also  forgotten  to  read,  and  have  not  kept  our- 
selves from  the  paths  of  the  destroyer.  Here  David  was  wiser  than  we  ;  for  saith  he, 
"  Concerning  the  works  of  men,  by  the  word  of  thy  lips  I  have  kept  me  from  the 
paths  of  the  destroyer."  Psa.  17:4. 

Thus  they  lay  bewailing  themselves  in  the  net.     At  last  they  espied  comes   tomsthem 

...  ,  .         ,.  11  j      •       -L  •      with  a  whip  in  his 

a  Shining  One  coming  towards  them  with  a  whip  or  small  cords  in  his  hand. 

hand.     When  he  was  come  to  the  place  where  they  were,  he  asked  them  whence  they 

came  and  what  they  did  there.     They  told  him  that  they  were  poor  pilgrims  going  to 


IN  THE  FLATTERER'S  NET.  167 

Zion,Jbut  were  led  out  of  their  way  by  a  black  man  clothed  in  white,  "  who  bid  us," 
IsaTcfthey,  "  follow  him,  for  he  was  going  thither  too." 

Then  said  he  with  the  whip,  "  It  is  Flatterer,  a  false  apostle,  that  hath  trans- 
formed himself  into  an  angel  of  light."     Dan.  11  132;  2  Cor.  11  :  13,  14.     So  he  rent 
the  net  and  let  the  men  out.     Then  said  he  to  them,  "  Follow  me,  that  I  may  set  you 
in  your  way  again."     So  he  led  them  back  to  the  way  which  they  had  left  to  follow 
They  are  exam- the  Flatterer.     Then  he  asked  them,  saying,  "Where  did  you  lie  the 

ined,  and  convicted  .    ,      ..,.  * 

of  forgetfulness.       last  night  ? 

They  said,  "  With  the  shepherds  upon  the  Delectable  mountains." 

He  asked  them  then  if  they  had  not  of  the  shepherds  a  note  of  direction  for  the 

r_ 

They  answered,  "  Yes." 

"  But  did  you  not,"  said  he,  "  when  you  were  at  a  stand,  pluck  out  and  read  your 
note?". 

They  answered,  "  No." 

He  asked  them,  "  Why  ?" 

They  said  they  forgot. 

He  asked  them,  moreover,  if  the  shepherds  did  not  bid  them  beware  of  the 
Flatterer. 

They  answered,  "  Yes.    But  we  did  not  imagine,"  said  they, "  that  this  fine-spoken 
man  had  been  he."     Rom.  16:  17,  18. 
They  are  whipped,          Then  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  he  commanded  them  to  lie  down; 

and   sent   on    their       -  .   -         ,  -,  i  •  i     i  1          • 

way.  which  when  they  did,  he  chastised  them  sore,  to  teach  them  the  good 

way  wherein  they  should  walk,  Deut.  25:2;  2  Chron.  6 :  27 ;  and  as  he  chastised  them 
he  said,  "  As  many  as  I  love,  I  rebuke  and  chasten ;  be  zealous,  therefore,  and  repent." 
Rev.  3:19.  This  done,  he  bids  them  go  on  their  way,  and  take  good  heed  to  the  other 
directions  of  the  shepherds.  So  they  thanked  him  for  all  his  kindness,  and  went 
softly  along  the  right  way,  singing, 

"Come  hither,  you  that  walk  along  the  way, 
See  how  the  pilgrims  fare  that  go  astray ; 
They  catched  are  in  an  entangled  net, 
'Cause  they  good  counsel  lightly  did  forget. 
'Tis  true,  they  rescued  were ;  but  yet,  you  see, 
They're  scourged  to  boot :  let  this  your  caution  be." 

Now,  after  a  while,  they  perceived  afar  off  one  coming  softly  and  alone  all  along 
the  highway  to  meet  them.  Then  said  Christian  to  his  fellow,  "  Yonder  is  a  man 
with  his  back  towards  Zion,  and  he  is  coming  to  meet  us." 

HOPE.  I  see  him.  Let  us  take  heed  to  ourselves  now,  lest  he  should  prove  a  Flat- 
terer also. 

Atheist  meets          So  ne  drew  nearer  and  nearer,  and  at  last  came  up  to  them.     His 
them-  name  was  Atheist,  and  he  asked  them  whither  they  were  going. 

"  We  are  going  to  Mt  Zion,"  said  Christian. 

Then  Atheist  fell  into  a  very  great  laughter. 


"  THEN  ATHEIST   FELL  INTO  A   VERY  GREAT   LAUGHTER.' 


ATHEIST,  AND  THE  ENCHANTED  GROUND.  169 

"  What 's  the  meaning  of  your  laughter?"  said  Christian. 

ATHEIST.  I  laugh  to  see  what  ignorant  persons  you  are  to  take  upon  you  so 
tedious  a  journey,  and  yet  are  like  to  have  nothing  but  your  travel  for  your  pains. 

CHR.  Why,  man,  do  you  think  we  shall  not  be  received  ? 

ATHEIST.  Received  !     There  is  not  such  a  place  as  you  dream  of  in  all  this  world. 

"  But  there  is  in  the  world  to  come,"  said  Christian. 

ATHEIST.  When  I  was  at  home  in  my  own  country  I  heard  as  you  now  affirm, 
and  from  that  hearing  went  out  to  see,  and  have  been  seeking  this  city  these  twenty 
years,  but  find  no  more  of  it  than  I  did  the  first  day  I  set  out.  Eccl.  10:15; 
Jer.  17:15. 

CIIR.  We  have  both  heard  and  believe  that  there  is  such  a  place  to  be  found. 

ATHEIST.  Had  not  I  when  at  home  believed,  I  had  not  come  thus  far  to  seek; 

but  finding  none  (and  yet   I  should  had  there  been  such  a  place  to  be  found,  for  I 

Atheist  taucs  up  have  gone  to  seek  it  farther  than  you),  I  am  going  back  ag-ain  and  will 

his  content  in  this  /--,  1..11          ... 

world.  seek  to  refresh  myself  with  the  things  that  I  then  cast  away  for  hopes  of 

that  which  I  now  see  is  not. 

Then  said  Christian  to  Hopeful  his  companion,  "  Is  it  true  which  this  man  hath 
said  ?" 

HOPE.  Take  heed  ;  he  is  one  of  the  Flatterers.  Remember  what  it  cost  us  once 
already  for  our  hearkening  to  such  kind  of  fellows.  What,  no  Mt.  Zion?  Did 
Remembrance we  not  see  from  the  Delectable  mountains  the  gate  of THe  city?  Also, 
SLjReui'S^t are  we  not  now  to  walk  by  faith?  2  Cor.  5:7.  Let  us  go  on,  lest  the 
n-  man  with  the  whip  overtake  us  again.  You  should  have  taught  me  that 
lesson,  which  I  will  sound  in  your  ears  withal:  "Cease,  my  son,  to  hear  the  instruc- 
tion that  causeth  to  err  .from  the  words  of  knowledge."  Prov.  19:27.  I  say,  my 
brother,  cease  to  hear  him,  and  let  us  believe  to  the  saving  of  the  soul. 

CHR.  My  brother,  I  did  not  put  the  question  to  thee  for  that  I  doubted  of  the 
truth  of  our  belief  myself,  but  to  prove  thee,  and  to  fetch  from  thee  a  fruit  of  the 
honesty  of  thy  heart.  As  for  this  man,  I  know  that  he  is  blinded  by  the  god  of  this 
world.  Let  thee  and  me  go  on,  knowing  that  we  have  belief  of  the  truth  ;  and  no  lie 
is  of  the  truth,  i  John  2:21. 

HOPE.  Now  do  I  rejoice  in  hope  of  the  glory  of  God. 

So  they  turned  away  from  the  man ;  and  he,  laughing  at  them,  went  his  way. 

I  then  saw  in  my  dream  that  they  went  on  until  they  came  into  a  certain  country 
They  come  to  whose  air  naturally  tended  to  make  one  drowsy  if  he  came  a  stranger 

the        Enchanted    ... 

oiwmd.  mto  it.     And  here  Hopeful  began  to  be  very  dull  and  heavy  to  sleep: 

wherefore  he  said  unto  Christian,  "  I  do  now  begin  to  grow  so  drowsy  that  I  can 
scarcely  hold  open  mine  eyes ;  let  us  lie  down  here  and  take  one  nap." 

"  By  no  means,"  said  Christian  ;  "lest,  sleeping,  -we  never  wake  more." 
HOPE.  Why,  my  brother,  sleep  is  sweet  to  the  laboring  man  ;    we  may  be  re- 
freshed if  we  take  a  nap. 

CHR.  Do  you  not  remember  that  one  of  the  shepherds  bid  us  beware  of 
the  Enchanted  Ground  ?  He  meant  by  that  that  we  should  beware  of  sleeping; 


1 70  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

wherefore  "  let  us  not  sleep,  as  do  others ;  but  let  us  watch  and  be  sober."     i  Thess. 
5:6. 

HOPE.  I  acknowledge  myself  in  a  fault ;  and  had  I  been  here  alone,     He  is  thankful. 
I  had  by  sleeping  run  the  danger  of  death.     I  see  it  is  true  that  the  wise  man  saith, 
"  Two  are  better  than  one."     Eccl.  4 : 9.     Hitherto  hath  thy  company  been  my  mercy ; 
and  thou  shalt  have  a  good  reward  for  thy  labor. 

"Now,  then,"  said  Christian,  "to  prevent  drowsiness  in  this  place,      Good  discourse 

preventetn  drow- 

let  us  fall  into  good  discourse.  siness. 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  said  Hopeful. 
CHR.  Where  shall  we  begin  ? 

HOPE.  Where  God  began  with  us.     But  do  you  begin,  if  you  please. 
CHR.  I  will  sing  you  first  this  song : 

"When  saints  do  sleepy  grow,  let  them  come  hither 
And  hear  how  these  two  pilgrims  talk  together ; 
Yea,  let  them  learn  of  them  in  any  wise, 
Thus  to  keep  ope  their  drowsy,  slumbering  eyes. 
Saints'  fellowship,  if  it  be  managed  well, 
Keeps  them  awake,  and  that  in  spite  of  hell." 

Then  Christian  began  and  said,  "  I  will  ask  you  a  question.  How  came  you  to 
think  at  first  of  doing  what  you  do  now  ?" 

HOPE.  Do  you  mean  how  I  came  at  first  to  look  after  the  good  of  my  soul  ? 

CHR.  Yes,  that  is  my  meaning. 

HOPE.  I  continued  a  great  while  in  the  delight  of  those  things  which  were  seen 
and  sold  at  our  fair ;  things  which  I  believe  now  would  have,  had  I  continued  in  them 
still,  drowned  me  in  perdition  and  destruction. 

CHR.  What  things  were  they  ? 

HOPE.  All  the  treasures  and  riches  of  the  world.  Also  I  delighted  Hopeful's  life 
much  in  rioting,  revelling,  drinking,  swearing,  lying,  uncleanness,  Sab-  before  conversion- 
bath-breaking,  and  what  not,  that  tended  to  destroy  the  soul.  But  I  found  at  last,  by 
hearing  and  considering  of  things  tAat  are  divine,  which,  indeed,  I  heard  of  you,  as 
also  of  beloved  Faithful  that  was  put  to  death  for  his  faith  and  good  living  in  Vanity 
Fair,  that  the  end  of  these  things  is  death,  Rom.  6:  21-23 :  and  that  for  these  things' 
sake  the  wrath  of  God  cometh  upon  the  children  of  disobedience.  Eph.  5  : 6. 

CHR.  And  did  you  presently  fall  under  the  power  of  this  conviction  ? 

HOPE.  No,  I  was  not  willing  presently  to  know  the  evil  of  sin,  nor  the  damnation 
that  follows  upon  the  commission  of  it ;  but  endeavored,  when  my  mind  at  first  began 
to  be  shaken  with  the  word,  to  shut  mine  eyes  against  the  light  thereof. 

CHR.  But  what  was  the  cause  of  your  carrying  of  it  thus  to  the  first  workings  of 
God's  blessed  Spirit  upon  you  ? 

HOPE.  The  causes  were,  first,  I  was  ignorant  that  this  was  the  work  of  God  upon 
me.     I  never  thought  that  by  awakenings  for  sin  God  at  first  begins  the       Reasons  for  re- 
conversion of  a  sinner.     Second,  sin  was  yet  very  sweet  to  my  flesh,  and  s 
I  was  loath  to  leave  it.     Third,  I  could  not  tell  how  to  part  with  my  old  companions, 


HOPEFULS  EXPERIENCE.  i;i 

their  presence  and  actions  were  so  desirable  unto  me.  Fourth,  the  hours  in  which 
convictions  were  upon  me  were  such  troublesome  and  such  heart-affrighting  hours 
that  I  could  not  bear,  no,  not  so  much  as  the  remembrance  of  them  upon  my  heart. 

CHR.  Then,  as  it  seems,  sometimes  you  got  rid  of  your  trouble? 

HOPE.  Yes,  verily,  but  it  would  come  into  my  mind  again ;  and  then  I  should  be 
as  bad,  nay,  worse  than  I  was  before. 

CHR.  Why,  what  was  it  that  brought  your  sins  to  mind  again  ? 

When  he  lost  H°PE'    Mally  thingS  :   aS> 

that*  brought81  u  i.  If  I  did  but  meet  a  good  man  in  the  street;  or 

back-  2.  If  I  have  heard  any  read  in  the  Bible  ;  or, 

3.  If  my  head  did  begin  to  ache  ;  or, 

4.  If  I  were  told  that  some  of  my  neighbors  were  sick ;  or, 

5.  If  I  heard  the  bell  toll  for  some  that  were  dead ;  or, 

6.  If  I  thought  of  dying  myself ;  or, 

7.  If  I  heard  that  sudden  death  happened  to  others ; 

8.  But  especially  when  I  thought  of  myself,  that  I  must  quickly  come  to  judg- 
ment. 

CHR.  And  could  you  at  any  time,  with  ease,  get  off  the  guilt  of  sin  when  by  any 
of  these  ways  it  came  upon  you  ? 

HOPE.  No,  not  I ;  for  then  they  got  faster  hold  of  my  conscience ;  and  then  if  I 
did  but  think  of  going  back  to  sin  (though  my  mind  was  turned  against  it),  it  would 
be  double  torment  to  me. 

CHR.  And  how  did  you  do  then  ? 
when  he  could  HOPE.  I  thought  I  must  endeavor  to  mend  my  life;  or  else,  thought 

Si£SS»#£  J» l  am  sure  to  be  damned- 

he  endesaevorslieto          CHR-  And  did  you  endeavor  to  mend  ? 

HOPE.  Yes,  and  fled  from,  not  only  my  sins,  but  sinful  company 
too,  and  betook  me  to  religious  duties,  as  praying,  reading,  weeping  for  sin,  speaking 
truth  to  my  neighbors,  etc.  These  things  did  I,  with  many  others,  too  much  here 
to  relate. 

CHR.  And  did  you  think  yourself  well  then? 

HOPE.  Yes,  for  a  while  ;  but  at  the  last  my  trouble  came  tumbling  upon  me  again 
and  that  over  the  neck  of  all  my  reformations. 

CHR.  How  came  that  about,  since  you  were  now  reformed  ? 
Reformation  at          HOPE.  There  were  several   things  brought  it  upon  me,  especially 

last  could  not  help,  .  c-ui.  »» 

and  why.  such  sayings  as   these :      All  our  righteousnesses  are  as   filthy  rags. 

Isa.  64  : 6.  "  By  the  works  of  the  law  shall  no  flesh  be  justified."  Gal.  2:16.  "  When 
ye  have  done  all  these  things,  say,  We  are  unprofitable,"  Luke  17:  10;  with  many 
more  such  like.  From  whence  I  began  to  reason  with  myself  thus :  If  all  my  right- 
eousnesses are  as  filthy  rags ;  if  by  the  deeds  of  the  law  no  man  can  be  justified ;  and 
if,  when  we  have  done  all,  we  are  yet  unprofitable,  then  is  it  but  a  folly  to  think  of 
HIS  being  a  debtor  heaven  by  the  law.  I  further  thought  thus :  If  a  man  runs  a  hundred 

to  the  law  troubled  -      .,  /•          11    j-i 

wm.       _  pounds  into  the  shop-keeper  s  debt,  and  after  that  shall  pay  for  all  that 


i;2  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

he  shall  fetch,  yet  if  his  old  debt  stand  still  in  the  book  uncrossed,  the  shopkeeper 
may  sue  him  for  it,  and  cast  him  into  prison  till  he  shall  pay  the  debt. 

CHR.  Well,  and  how  did  you  apply  this  to  yourself? 

HOPE.  Why,  I  thought  thus  with  myself :  I  have  by  my  sins  run  a  great  way  into 
God's  book,  and  my  now  reforming  will  not  pay  off  that  score  ;  therefore  I  should 
think  still,  under  all  my  present  amendments,  But  how  shall  I  be  freed  from  that 
damnation  that  I  brought  myself  in  danger  of  by  my  former  transgressions  ? 

CHR.  A  very  good  application  :  but  pray  go  on. 

HOPE.  Another  thing  that  hath  troubled  me  ever  since  my  late  ]Ijscs  ,ino.))ad 
amendments  is,  that  if  I  look  narrowly  into  the  best  of  what  I  do  now,  I  J,1},1,1}^  la Babied 
still  see  sin,  new  sin,  mixing  itself  with  the  best  of  that  I  do  ;  so  that  now  lliliu 
I  am  forced  to  conclude  that  notwithstanding  my  former  fond  conceits  of  myself  and 
duties,  I  have  committed  sin  enough  in  one  day  to  send  me  to  hell,  though  my  former 
life  had  been  faultless. 

CHR.  And  what  did  you  do  then  ? 

HOPE.  Do?  I  could  not  tell  what  to  do  until  I  broke  my  mind  to  Tins  marie  Mm 
Faithful ;  for  he  and  I  were  well  acquainted.  And  he  told  me  that  unless  Faithful,  who  tow 

.  -  .,  ~~  \      ,      .  Mm  the  way  to  be 

I  could  obtain  the  righteousness  of  a  man  that  never  had  sinned,  neither  saved. 
my  own, HOT  ail  the  righteousness  of  the  world,  could  save  me. 

CHR.  And  did  you  think  he  spoke  true  ? 

HOPE.  Had  he  told  me  so  when  I  was  pleased  and  satisfied  with  my  own  amend- 
ments, I  had  called  him  fool  for  his  pains ;  but  now,  since  I  see  my  own  infirmity, 
and  the  sin  which  cleaves  to  my  best  performance,  I  have  been  forced  to  be  of  his 
opinion. 

CHR.  But  did  you  think,  when  at  first  he  suggested  it  to  you,  that  there  was 
such  a  man  to  be  found  of  whom  it  might  justly  be  said  that  he  never  committed 
sin? 

HOPE.  I  must  confess  the  words  at  first  sounded  strangely ;  but  after  a  little  more 
talk  and  company  with  him,  I  had  full  conviction  about  it. 

CHR.  And  did  you  ask  him  what  man  this  was,  and  how  you  must  be  justified 
by  him  ? 

HOPE.  Yes,  and  he  told  me  it  was  the  Lord  Jesus,  that  dwelleth  on  the  right 
hand  of  the  Most  High.  Heb.  10:  12-21.  "And  thus,"  said  he,  "you  must  A  more  particu- 

.  ..........      lar  discourse  of  t  lie 

be  justified  by  him,  even  by  trusting  to  what  he  hath  done  by  himself  in  way  to  be  saved. 
the  days  of  his  flesh,  and  suffered  when  he  did  hang  on  the  tree."  Rom.  4:5;  Col. 
i :  14;  i  Pet.  i  :  19.  I  asked  him,  further,  how  that  man's  righteousness  could  be  of  that 
efficacy  to  justify  another  before  God.  And  he  told  me  he  was  the  mighty  God,  and 
did  what  he  did,  and  died  the  death  also,  not  for  himself,  but  for  me ;  to  whom  his 
doings,  and  the  worthiness  of  them,  should  be  imputed,  if  I  believed  on  him. 

CHR.  And  what  did  you  do  then  ? 

HOPE.  I  made  my  objections  against  my  believing,  for  that  I  thought  he  was  not 
willing  to  save  me. 

CHR.  And  what  said  Faithful  to  you  then  ? 


HO W  HOPEFUL  FOUND  CHRIST. 


173 


HOPE.  He  bid  me  go  to  him  and  see. 
Then  I  said  it  was  presumption.  But  he 
said,  "  No ;  for  I  was  invited  to  come." 
Matt.  1 1  :  28.  Then  he  gave  me  a  book  of 
Jesus'  inditing,  to  encourage  me  the  more 
freely  to  come  ;  and  he  said  concerning 
that  book  that  every  jot  and  tittle  thereof 
stood  firmer  than  heaven  and  earth.  Matt. 
24 :  35.  Then  I  asked  him  what  I  must  do 
when  I  came ;  and  he  told  me  I  must  en- 
treat upon  my  knees,  Psa. 95  :6;  Dan. 6: 10, 
with  all  my  heart  and  soul,  Jer.  29: 12,  13, 
the  Father  to  reveal  him  to  me.  Then  I 
asked  him,  further,  how  I  must  make  my 
supplications  to  him  ;  and  he  said,  "  Go, 
and  thoti  shalt  find  him  upon  a  mercy- 
seat,  where  he  sits  all  the  year  long  to 
give  pardon  and  forgiveness  to  them  that 
come."  Exod.  25  :  22  ;  Lev.  16:2;  Num. 
7  :  89 ;  Heb.  4:16.  I  told  him  that  I  knew 
not  what  to  say  when  I  came  ;  and  he  bid 
me  say  to  this  effect :  "  God  be  merciful 
to  me  a  sinner  and  make  me  to  know  and 
believe  in  Jesus  Christ;  for  I  see  that  if 

his  righteousness  had  not  been,  or  I  have  not  faith  in  that  righteousness,  I  am  utterly 
cast  away.     Lord,  I  have  heard  that  thoti  art  a  merciful  God,  and  hast  ordained  that 
thy  Son  Jesus  Christ  should  be  the  Saviour  of  the  world  ;  and  moreover,  that  thou  art 
willing  to  bestow  him  upon  such  a  poor  sinner  as  I  am— and  I  am  a  sinner  indeed. 
Lord,  take  therefore  this  opportunity,  and  magnify  thy  grace  in  the  salvation  of  my 
soul,  through  thy  Son  Jesus  Christ.     Amen." 
CIIR.  And  did  you  do  as  you  were  bidden  ? 
HOPE.  Yes,  over  and  over  and  over. 
CIIR.  Did  the  Father  reveal  the  Son  to  you? 

HOPE.  Not  at  the  first,  nor  second,  nor  third,  nor  fourth,  nor  fifth,  no,  nor  at  the 
sixth  time  neither. 

CHR.  What  did  you  do  then  ? 
HOPE.  What  ?     Why,  I  could  not  tell  what  to  do. 
CIIR.  Had  you  not  thoughts  of  leaving  off  praying? 
HOPE.  Yes ;  and  a  hundred  times  twice  told. 
CHR.  And  what  was  the  reason  you  did  not  ? 
Hopeful  durst  HOPE.  I  believed  that  it  was  true  which  hath  been  told  me,  to  wit, 

not  leave  off  pray- 
ing, and  why.       that  without  the  righteousness  of  this  Christ,  all  the  world  could  not  save 

me ;  and  therefore,  thought  I  with  myself,  if  I  leave  off  I  die,  and  I  can  but  die  at  the 


"BUT    HE   SAID,  'NO;    FOR    I    WAS    INVITED  TO   COME.' ; 


174  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

throne  of  grace.  And  withal  this  came  into  my  mind,  "  If  it  tarry  wait  for  it,  because 
it  will  surely  come  and  will  not  tarry."  Hab.  2:3.  So  I  continued  praying  until  the 
Father  showed  me  his  Son. 

CHR.  And  how  was  he  revealed  unto  you  ? 

HOPE.  I  did  not  see  him  with  my  bodily  eyes,  but  with  the  eyes  of  Christ  is  reveale(] 
my  understanding,  Eph.  i  :  18,  19;  and  thus  it  was.  One  day  I  was  very to  llim>  and  how- 
sad,  I  think  sadder  than  at  any  one  time  in  my  life ;  and  this  sadness  was  through  a 
fresh  sight  of  the  greatness  and  vileness  of  my  sins.  And  as  I  was  then  looking  for 
nothing  but  hell  and  the  everlasting  damnation  of  my  soul,  suddenly,  as  I  thought,  I 
saw  the  Lord  Jesus  looking  down  from  heaven  upon  me,  and  saying,  "  Believe  on  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  thou  shalt  be  saved."  Acts  16:  31. 

But  I  replied,  "  Lord,  I  am  a  great,  a  very  great  sinner;"  and  he  answered,  "  My 
grace  is  sufficient  for  thee."  2  Cor.  12:9.  Then  I  said,  "But,  Lord,  what  is  believ- 
ing?" And  then  I  saw  from  that  saying,  "  He  that  cometh  to  me  shall  never  hunger, 
and  he  that  believeth  on  me  shall  never  thirst,"  John  6: 35,  that  believing  and  coming 
was  all  one :  and  that  he  that  came,  that  is,  that  ran  out  in  his  heart  and  affections 
after  salvation  by  Christ,  he  indeed  believed  in  Christ.  Then  the  water  stood  in  mine 
eyes,  and  I  asked  further,  "  But,  Lord,  may  such  a  great  sinner  as  I  am  be  indeed 
accepted  of  thee  and  be  saved  by  thee  ?"  And  I  heard  him  say,  "  And  him  that 
cometh  to  me  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out."  John  6:37.  Then  I  said,  "  But  how,  Lord, 
must  I  consider  of  thee  in  my  coming  to  thee,  that  my  faith  may  be  placed  aright 
upon  thee  ?"  Then  he  said,  "  Christ  Jesus  came  into  the  world  to  save  sinners,  i  Tim. 
1:15.  He  is  the  end -of  the  law  for  righteousness  to  every  one  that  believes.  Rom. 
10:4,  and  chap.  4.  He  died  for  our  sins  and  rose  again  for  our  justification.  Rom. 
4:  25.  He  loved  us  and  washed  us  from  our  sins  in  his  own  blood.  Rev.  1:5.  He  is 
Mediator  between  God  and  us.  i  Tim.  2:5.  He  ever  liveth  to  make  intercession  for 
us."  Heb.  7:25.  From  all  which  I  gathered  that  I  must  look  for  righteousness  in  his 
person,  and  for  satisfaction  for  my  sins  by  his  blood ;  that  what  he  did  in  obedience 
to  his  Father's  law,  and  in  submitting  to  the  penalty  thereof,  was  not  for  himself,  but 
for  him  that  will  accept  it  for  his  salvation  and  be  thankful.  And  now  was  my  heart 
full  of  joy,  mine  eyes  full  of  tears,  and  mine  affections  running  over  with  love  to  the 
name,  people,  and  ways  of  Jesus  Christ. 

CHR.  This  was  a  revelation  of  Christ  to  your  soul  indeed.  But  tell  me  particu- 
larly what  effect  this  had  upon  your  spirit. 

HOPE.  It  made  me  see  that  all  the  world,  notwithstanding  all  the  righteousness 
thereof,  is  in  a  state  of  condemnation.  It  made  me  see  that  God  the  Father,  though 
he  be  just,  can  justly  justify  the  coming  sinner.  It  made  me  greatly  ashamed  of 
the  vileness  of  my  former  life,  and  confounded  me  with  the  sense  of  my  own  ignor- 
ance ;  for  there  never  came  a  thought  into  my  heart  before  now  that  showed  me  so 
the  beauty  of  Jesus  Christ.  It  made  me  love  a  holy  life  and  long  to  do  something 
for  the  honor  and  glory  of  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus.  Yea,  I  thought  that  had  I 
now  a  thousand  gallons  of  blood  in  my  body,  I  could  spill  it  all  for  the  sake  of  the 
Lord  Jesus. 


DISCOURSE  WITH  IGNORANCE. 


175 


Young  Igno- 
rance comes  up 
again. 


I  saw  then  in  my  dream  that  Hopeful  looked  back,  and  saw  Ignorance,  whom 
they  had  left  behind,  coming  after.  "  Look,"  said  he  to  Christian,  "  how  far  yonder 
youngster  loitereth  behind." 

CHR.  Ay,  ay,  I  see  him ;  he  careth  not  for  our  company. 

HOPE.  But  I  trow  it  would  not  have  hurt  him  had  he  kept  pace  with  us 
hitherto. 

CHR.  That  is  true ;  but  I  warrant  you  he  thinketh  otherwise. 

HOPE.  That  I  think  he  doth  ;  but,  however,  let  us  tarry  for  him. 

So  they  did. 

Then  good  Christian  said  to  him,  "  Come  away,  man ;  why  do  you 
stay  so  behind  ?" 

IGNOR.  I  take  my  pleasure  in  walking  alone,  even  more  a  great  deal  than  in 
company,  unless  I  like  it  the  better. 

Then  said  Christian  to  Hopeful  (but  softly),  "  Did  I  not  tell  you  he  cared  not  for 
our  company?  But  however,"  said  he,  "come  up,  and  let  us  talk  away  the  time  in 
this  solitary  place." 

Then,  directing  his  speech  to  Igno- 
rance, he  said,  "Come,  how  do  you  do? 
How  stands  it  between  God  and  your  soul 
now?" 

IGNOR.  I  hope,  well;  for  I  am   always 

ignorance's  full  of  good  motions  that  come 

hope,      and      the    .  ..  ,. 

ground  or  it,  into  my  mind  to  comfort  me 
as  I  walk. 

CHR.  What  good  motions?  Pray  tell 
us. 

IGNOR.  Why,  I  think  of  God  and 
heaven. 

CHR.  So  do  the  devils  and  damned 
souls. 

IGNOR.  But  I  think  of  thorn  and  desire 
them. 

CHR.  So  do  many  that  are  never  like  to 
come  there.  "The  soul  of  the  sluggard 
desireth  and  hath  nothing."  Prov.  13:4. 

IGNOR.  But  I  think  of  them  and  leave 
all  for  them. 

CHR.  That  I  doubt;  for  to  leave  all  is 
a  very  hard  matter;  yea,  a  harder  matter 
than  many  are  aware  of.  But  why  or  by 
what  art  thou  persuaded  that  thou  hast  left  all  for  God  and  heaven  ? 

IGNOR.  My  heart  tells  me  so. . 

CHR.  The  wise  man  says, "  He  that  trusteth  in  his  own  heart  is  a  fool."   Prov.  28 : 26, 


'l  AM  ALWAYS  FULL  OF  GOOD  MOTIONS. 


176  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

IGNOR.  That  is  spoken  of  an  evil  heart ;  but  mine  is  a  good  one. 

CHR.  But  how  dost  thou  prove  that? 

IGNOR.  It  comforts  me  in  hopes  of  heaven. 

CHR.  That  may  be  through  its  deceitfulness ;  for  a  man's  heart  may  ministei 
comfort  to  him  in  the  hopes  of  that  thing  for  which  he  has  yet  no  ground  to  hope. 

IGNOR.  But  my  heart  and  life  agree  together;  and  therefore  my  hope  is  well 
grounded. 

CHR.  Who  told  thee  that  thy  heart  and  life  agree  together  ? 

IGNOR.  My  heart  tells  me  so. 

CHR.  "Ask  my  fellow  if  I  be  a  thief."  Thy  heart  tells  thee  so!  Except  the 
Word  of  God  beareth  witness  in  this  matter,  other  testimony  is  of  no  value. 

IGNOR.  But  is  it  not  a  good  heart  that  hath  good  thoughts ;  and  is  not  that  a  good 
life  that  is  according  to  God's  commandments  ? 

CHR.  Yes,  that  is  a  good  heart  that  hath  good  thoughts,  and  that  is  a  good  life 
that  is  according  to  God's  commandments ;  but  it  is  one  thing  indeed  to  have  these, 
and  another  thing  only  to  think  so. 

IGNOR.  Pray,  what  count  you  good  thoughts,  and  a  life  according  to  God's  com- 
mandments ? 

CHR.  There  are  good  thoughts  of  divers  kinds — some  respecting-ourselves,  some 
God,  some  Christ,  and  some  other  things. 

IGNOR.  What  be  good  thoughts  respecting  ourselves?  ••  Wliat  are  good 

CHR.  Such  as  agree  with  the  Word  of  God.  **a*a* 

IGNOR.  When  do  our  thoughts  of  ourselves  agree  with  the  Word  of  God  ? 

CHR.  When  we  pass  the  same  judgment  upon  ourselves  which  the  Word  passes. 
To  explain  myself :  the  Word  of  God  saith  of  persons  in  a  natural  condition,  "  There 
is  none  righteous,  there  is  none  that  doeth  good."  It  saith  also  that  "  every  imagina- 
tion of  the  heart  of  man  is  only  evil,  and  that  continually."  Gen.  6:5;  Rom.  3.  And 
again,  "The  imagination  of  man's  heart  is  evil  from  his  youth."  Gen.  8:21.  Now, 
then,  when  we  think  thus  of  ourselves,  having  sense  thereof,  then  are  our  thoughts 
good  ones,  because  according  to  the  Word  of  God. 

IGNOR.  I  will  never  believe  that  my  heart  is  thus  bad. 

CHR.  Therefore  thou  never  hadst  one  good  thought  concerning  thyself  in  thy 
life.  But  let  me  go  on.  As  the  Word  passe th  a  judgment  upon  our  hearts,  so  it 
passe th  a  judgment  upon  our  ways ;  and  when  the  thoughts  of  our  hearts  and  ways 
agree  with  the  judgment  which  the  Word  giveth  of  both,  then. are  both  good  because 
agreeing  thereto. 

IGNOR.  Make  out  your  meaning. 

CHR.  Why,  the  Word  of  God  saith  that  man's  ways  are  crooked  ways,  not  good, 
but  perverse ;  it  saith  men  are  naturally  out  of  the  good  way,  that  they  have  not 
known  it.  Psa.  125  :  5  ;  Prov.  2:15;  Rom.  3  :  12.  Now,  when  a  man  thus  thinketh 
of  his  ways — I  say,  when  he  doth  sensibly  and  with  heart  humiliation  thus  think, 
then  hath  he  good  thoughts  of  his  own  ways,  because  his  thoughts  now  agree  with 
the  judgment  of  the  Word  of  God. 


DISCOURSE  WITH  IGNORANCE.  177 

IGNOR.  What  are  good  thoughts  concerning  God  ? 

CHR.  Even,  as  I  have  said  concerning  ourselves,  when  our  thoughts  of  God  do 
agree. with-  what  the  Word  saith  of  him  ;  and  that  is,  when  we  think  of  his  being  and 
attributes  as  the  Word  hath  taught,  of  which  I  cannot  now  discourse  at  large.  But 
to  speak  of  him  with  reference  to  us :  then  have  we  right  thoughts  of  God  when  we 
think  that  he  knows  us  better  than  we  know  ourselves,  and  can  see  sin  in  us  when  and 
where  we  can  see  none  in  ourselves ;  when  we  think  he  knows  our  inmost  thoughts, 
and  that  our  heart  with  all  ^  depths  is  always  open  unto  his  eyes ;  also  when  we 
think  that  all  our  righteousness  stinks  in  his  nostrils,  and  that  therefore  he  cannot 
abide  to  see  us  stand  before  hifii  in  any  confidence,  even  in  all  our  best  perform- 
ances. \. 

IGNOR.  Do  you  think  that  I  am  such  a  fool  as  to  think  that  God  can  see  no 
farther  than  I ;  or  that  I  would  comW  to  God  in  the  best  of  my  performances  ? 

CHR.  Why,  how  dost  thou  thinkan  this  matter? 

IGNOR.  Why,  to  be  short,  I  think\[  must  believe  in  Christ  for  justification. 

CHR.  How?  think  thou  must  believe  in  Christ  when  thou  seest  not  thy  need  of 
him?  Thou  neither  seest  thy  origir^l  nor  actual  infirmities;  but  hast  such  an 
opinion  of  thyself  and  of  what  thou  doest  as  plainly  renders  thee  to  be  one  that  did 
never  see  the  necessity  of  Christ's  personal  righteousness  to  justify  thee  before  God. 
How,  then,  dost  thou  say,  I  believe  in  Christ  ? 

IGNOR.  I  believe  well  enough,  for  all  that. 

CHR.  How  dost  thou  believe? 

IGNOR.  I  believe  that  Christ  died  for  sinners,  and  that  I  shall  be  justified  before 

The  faitu  or  God  from  the  curse  through  his  gracious  acceptance  of  my  obedience  to 
his  laws.  Or  thus,  Christ  makes  my  duties,  that  are  religious,  acceptable 
to  his  Father  by  virtue  of  his  merits,  and  so  shall  I  be  justified. 

CHR.  Let  me  give  an  answer  to  this  confession  of  thy  faith. 

1.  Thou  belie  vest  with  a  fantastical  faith ;  for  this  faith  is  nowhere  described  in 
the  Word. 

2.  Thou  believest  with  a  false  faith;   because  it  taketh  justification   from  the 
personal  righteousness  of  Christ  and  applies  it  to  thy  own. 

3.  This  faith  maketh  not  Christ  a  justifier  of  thy  person,  but  of  thy  actions,  and 
of  thy  person  for  thy  actions'  sake,  which  is  false. 

4.  Therefore  this  faith  is  deceitful,  even  such  as  will  leave  thee  under  wrath  in 
the  day  of  God  Almighty ;  for  true  justifying  faith  puts  the  soul,  as  sensible  of  its 
lost  condition  by  the  law,  upon  flying  for  refuge  unto  Christ's  righteousness — which 
righteousness  of  his  is  not  an  act  of  grace  by  which  he  maketh,  for  justification,  thy 
obedience  accepted  with  God,  but  his  personal  obedience  to  the  law,  in  doing  and 
suffering  for  us  what  that  required  at  our  hands — this  righteousness,  I  say,  true  faith 
accepteth ;  under  the  skirt  of  which  the  soul  being  shrouded,  and  by  it  presented  as 
spotless  before  God,  it  is  accepted  and  acquitted  from  condemnation. 

IGNOR.  What,  would  you  have  us  trust  to  what  Christ  in  his  own  person  has  done 
without  us  ?  This  conceit  would  loosen  the  reins  of  our  lust  and  tolerate  us  to  live  as 

23 


i;8  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

we  list :  for  what  matter  how  we  live,  if  we  may  be  justified  by  Christ's  personal 
righteousness  from  all,  when  we  believe  it? 

CHR.  Ignorance  is  thy  name,  and  as  thy  name  is  so  art  thou :  even  this  thy 
answer  demonstrateth  what  I  say.  Ignorant  thou  art  of  what  justifying  righteous- 
ness is,  and  as  ignorant  how  to  secure  thy  soul,  through  the  faith  of  it,  from  the  heavy 
wrath  of  God.  Yea,  thou  also  art  ignorant  of  the  true  effects  of  saving  faith  in  this 
righteousness  of  Christ,  which  is  to  bow  and  win  over  the  heart  to  God  in  Christ,  to 
love  his  name,  his  Word,  ways,  and  people,  and  not  as  thou  ignorantly  imaginest. 

HOPE.  Ask  him  if  ever  he  had  Christ  revealed  to  him  from  heaven. 

IGNOR.  What,  you  are  a  man  for  revelations !  I  do  believe  that  what  both  you 
and  all  the  rest  of  you  say  about  that  matter  is  but  the  fruit  of  distracted  brains. 

HOPE.  Why,  man,  Christ  is  so  hid  in  God  from  the  natural  apprehensions  of  the 
flesh  that  he  cannot  by  any  man  be  savingly  known  unless  God  the  Father  reveals 
him  to  him. 

IGNOR.  That  is  your  faith,  but  not  mine :  yet  mine,  I  doubt  not,  is  ignorance 

as  good  as  yours,  though  I  have  not  in  my  head  so  many  whimsies  as  ISfiflt  rwha°tache 

you.  knows  not. 

CHR.  Give  me  leave  to  put  in  a  word.  You  ought  not  so  slightly  to  speak  of  this 
matter ;  for  this  I  will  boldly  affirm,  even  as  my  good  companion  hath  done,  that  no 
man  can  know  Jesus  Christ  but  by  the  revelation  of  the  Father ;  yea,  and  faith  too,  by 
which  the  soul  layeth  hold  upon  Christ  (if  it  be  right),  must  be  wrought  by  the 
exceeding  greatness  of  his  mighty  power,  Matt.  11  :27;  i  Cor.  12:3;  Eph.  i:  17-19; 
the  working  of  which  faith  I  perceive,  poor  Ignorance,  thou  art  ignorant  of.  Be 
awakened,  then ;  see  thine  own  wretchedness  and  fly  to  the  Lord  Jesus ;  and  by  his 
righteousness,  which  is  the  righteousness  of  God  (for  he  himself  is  God),  thou  shalt  be 
delivered  from  condemnation. 

IGNOR.  You  go  so  fast  I  cannot  keep  pace  with  you;  do  you  go  on  -rue  talk  is 

before  :  I  must  stay  a  while  behind.  broken  up. 

Then  they  said, 

"  Well,  Ignorance,  wilt  thou  yet  foolish  be, 
To  slight  good  counsel  ten  times  given  thee  ? 
And  if  thou  yet  refuse  it,  thou  shalt  know 
Erelong  the  evil  of  thy  doing  so. 
Remember,  man,  in  time ;  stoop,  do  not  fear ; 
Good  counsel,  taken  well,  saves  ;  therefore  hear. 
But  if  thou  yet  shalt  slight  it,  thou  wilt  be 
The  loser,  Ignorance,  I'll  warrant  thee." 


THE  TRUE  FEAR  OF  GOD.  179 


THE  TENTH  STAGE. 

THEN  Christian  addressed  himself  thus  to  his  fellow : 

CHR.  Well,  come,  my  good  Hopeful,  I  perceive  that  thou  and  I  must  walk  by 
ourselves  again. 

So  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  they  went  on  a  pace  before,  and  Ignorance  he  came 
hobbling  after.  Then  said  Christian  to  hL  companion,  "  I  much  pity  this  poor  man  : 
it  will  certainly  go  ill  with  him  at  last." 

HOPE.  Alas,  there  are  abundance  in  our  town  in  his  condition,  whole  families, 
yea,  whole  streets,  and  that  of  pilgrims  too ;  and  if  there  be  so  many  in  our  parts,  how 
many,  think  you,  must  there  be  in  the  place  where  he  was  born  ? 

CHR.  Indeed,  the  Word  saith,  "  He  hath  blinded  their  eyes,  lest  they  should 
see,"  etc. 

But,  now  we  are  by  ourselves,  what  do  you  think  of  such  men  ?  Have  they  at  no 
time,  think  you,  convictions  of  sin,  and  so,  consequently,  fears  that  their  state  is 
dangerous  ? 

HOPE.  Nay,  do  you  answer  that  question  yourself,  for  you  are  the  elder  man? 

CHR.  Then  I  say,  sometimes,  as  I  think,  they  may ;  but  they,  being  naturally 
ignorant,  understand  not  that  such  convictions  tend  to  their  good  ;  and  therefore  they 
do  desperately  seek  to  stifle  them,  and  presumptuously  continue  to  flatter  themselves 
in  the  way  of  their  own  hearts. 

The  good  use          HOPE.  I  do  believe,  as  you  say,  that  fear  tends  much  to  men's  good, 
of  fear-  and  to  make  them  right  at  their  beginning  to  go  on  pilgrimage. 

CHR.  Without  all  doubt  it  doth  if  it  be  right ;  for  so  says  the  Word,  "  The  fear  of 
the  Lord  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom."  Job  28 :  28 ;  Psa.  1 1 1 :  10 ;  Prov.  1:7;  9:10. 

HOPE.  How  will  you  describe  right  fear? 

mght  rear.  CHR.  True  or  right  fear  is  discovered  by  three  things : 

1.  By  its  rise :  it  is  caused  by  saving  convictions  for  sin. 

2.  It  driveth  the  soul  to  lay  fast  hold  of  Christ  for  salvation. 

3.  It  begetteth  and  continueth  in  the  soul  a  great  reverence  of  God,  his  Word  and 
ways,  keeping  it  tender,  and  making  it  afraid  to  turn  from  them  to  the  right  hand  or 
to  the  left,  to  anything  that  may  dishonor  God,  break  its  peace,  grieve  the  Spirit,  or 
cause  the  enemy  to  speak  reproachfully. 

HOPE.  Well  said  ;  I  believe  you  have  said  the  truth.  Are  we  now  almost  got  past 
the  Enchanted  Ground  ? 

CHR.  Why  ?    Are  you  weary  of  this  discourse  ? 

HOPE.  No,  verily,  but  that  I  would  know  where  we  are. 

CHR.  We  have  not  now  above  two  miles  farther  to  go  thereon.     But  let  us  return 

Why  ignorant    to  OUr  matter, 
persons  stifle  con-  __  .  ,.,  ,  .    ,.  .,     , 

viction.  Now  the  ignorant  know  not  that  such  convictions  as  tend  to  put 

them  in  fear  are  for  their  good,  and  therefore  they  seek  to  stifle  them. 


i8o  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

HOPE.  How  do  they  seek  to  stifle  them  ? 

^y  CHR.  First,  they  think  that  those  fears  are  wrought  by  the  devil  (though  indeed 
they  are  wrought  of  God),  and  thinking  so,  they  resist  them  as  things  that  directly 
tend  to  their  overthrow.  Second,  they  also  think  that  these  fears  tend  to  the  spoiling 
of  their  faith ;  when,  alas  for  them,  poor  men  that  they  are,  they  have  none  at  all ;  and 
therefore  they  harden  their  hearts  against  them.  Third,  they  presume  they  ought 
not  to  fear,  and  therefore,  in  despite  of  them,  wax  presumptuously  confident.  Fourth, 
they  see  that  those  fears  tend  to  take  away  from  them  their  pitiful  old  self-holiness, 
and  therefore  they  resist  them  with  all  their  might. 

HOPE.  I  know  something  of  this  myself;  for  before  I  knew  myself  it  was  so 
with  me. 

CHR.  Well,  we  will  leave,  at  this  time,  our  neighbor  Ignorance  by  himself,  and 
fall  upon  another  profitable  question. 

HOPE.  With  all  my  heart ;  but  you  shall  still  begin. 

CHR.  Well,  then,  did  you  know,  about  ten  years  ago,  one  Temporary  Talk  about  one 
in  your  parts,  who  was  a  forward  man  in  religion  then  ?  Temporary. 

HOPE.  Know  him  ?  Yes ;  he  dwelt  in  Graceless,  a  town  about  two  miles  off  of 
ijpnesty,  and  he  dwelt  next  door  to  one  Turn-back. 

CHR.  Right ;  he  dwelt  under  the  same  roof  with  him.  Well,  that  man  was  much 
awakened  once :  I  believe  that  then  he  had  some  sight  of  his  sins  and  of  the  wages 
that  were  due  thereto. 

HOPE.  I  am  of  your  mind,  for  (my  house  not  being  above  three  miles  from  him) 
he  would  ofttimes  come  to  me,  and  that  with  many  tears.  Truly  I  pitied  the  man, 
and  was  not  altogether  without  hope  of  him ;  but  one  may  see  it  is  not  every  one  that 
cries,  "  Lord,  Lord." 

CHR.  He  told  me  once  that  he  was  resolved  to  go  on  pilgrimage,  as  we  go  now ; 
but  all  of  a  sudden  he  grew  acquainted  with  one  Save-self,  and  then  he  became  a 
stranger  to  me. 

HOPE.  Now,  since  we  are  talking  about  him,  let  us  a  little  inquire  into  the  reason 
of  the  sudden  backsliding  of  him  and  such  others. 

CHR.  It  may  be  very  profitable ;  but  do  you  begin. 
.HOPE.  Well,  then,  there  are,  in  my  judgment,  four  reasons  for  it : 

i.  Though  the  consciences  of  such  men  are  awakened,  yet  their  minds  are  not 
changed:  therefore,  when  the  power  of  guilt  weareth  away,  that  which  provoked 
them  to  be  religious  ceaseth ;  wherefore  they  naturally  turn  to  their  old  course  again, 
even  as  we  see  the  dog  that  is  sick  of  what  he  hath  eaten,  so  long  as  his  sickness 
prevails  he  vomits  and  casts  up  all :  not  that  he  doth  this  of  a  free  mind  (if  we  may 
say  a  dog  has  a  mind),  but  because  it  troubleth  his  stomach.  But  now,  when  his 
sickness  is  over  and  so  his  stomach  eased,  his  desires  being  not  at  all  alienated  from 
his  vomit,  he  turns  him  about  and  licks  up  all ;  and  so  it  is  true  which  is  written,  "  The 
dog  is  turned  to  his  own  vomit  again."  2  Pet.  2  : 22.  Thus,  I  say,  being  hot  for 
heaven  by  virtue  only  of  the  sense  and  fear  of  the  torments  of  hell,  as  their  sense 
of  hell  and  fear  of  damnation  chills  and  cools,  so  their  desires  for  heaven  and  salvation 


ABOUT  APOSTASY.  181 

cool  also.     So  then  it  comes  to  pass  that  when  their  guilt  and  fear  are  gone  their 
desires  for  heaven  and  happiness  die,  and  they  return  to  their  course  again. 

2.  Another  reason  is,  they  have  slavish  fears  that  do  overmaster  them :  I  speak 
now  of  the  fears  that  they  have  of  men ;  "for  the  fear  of  man  bringeth  a  snare." 
Prov.  29 :  25.     So  then,  though  they  seem  to  be  hot  for  heaven  so  long  as  the  flames 
of  hell  are  about  their  ears,  yet,  when  that  terror  is  a  little  over,  they  betake  them- 
selves to  second  thoughts,  namely,  that  it  is  good  to  be  wise,  and  not  to  run  (for  they  ^ 
know  not  what)  the  hazard  of  losing  all,  or  at  least  of   bringing    themselves   into 
unavoidable  and  unnecessary  troubles ;  and  so  they  fall  in  with  the  world  again. 

3.  The  shame  that  attends  religion  lies  also  as  a  block  in  their  way :  they  are  v* 
proud  and  haughty,  and  religion  in  their  eye  is  low  and  contemptible ;  therefore  when 
they  have  lost  their  sense  of  hell  and  the  wrath  to  come,  they  return  again  to  their 
former  course. 

4.  Guilt,  and  to  meditate  terror,  are  grievous  to  them.    They  like  not  to  see  their  ^- 
misery  before  they  come  into  it,  .though  perhaps  the  sight  of  it  at  first,  if  they  loved 
that  sight,  might  make  them  fly  whither  the  righteous  fly  and  are  safe.     But  because 
they  do,  as  I  hinted  before,  even  shun  the  thoughts  of  guilt  and  terror,  therefore, 
when  once  they  are  rid  of  their  awakenings  about  the  terrors  and  wrath  of  God,  they 
harden  their  hearts  gladly,  and  choose  such  ways  as  will  harden  them   more  and 
more. 

CHR.  You  are  pretty  near  the  business,  for  the  bottom  of  all  is  for  want  of  a 
change  in  their  mind  and  will.  And  therefore  they  are  but  like  the  felon  that  stand- 
ethT)efore  the  judge  ;  he  quakes  and  trembles  and  seems  to  repent  most  heartily,  but 
the  bottom  of  all  is  the  fear  of  the  halter :  not  that  he  hath  any  detestation  of  the 
offence,  as  it  is  evident ;  because,  let  but  this  man  have  his  liberty,  and  he  will  be  a 
thief,  and  so  a  rogue  still ;  whereas,  if  his  mind  was  changed,  he  would  be  other- 
wise. 

HOPE.  Now  I  have  showed  you  the  reason  of  their  going  back,  do  you  show  me 
the  manner  thereof. 

CHR.  So  I  will  willingly.  V\ 

1 .  They  draw  off  their  thoughts  all  that  they  may  from  the  remem-       Ilow  thc  apos. 
brance  of  God,  death,  and  judgment  to  come.  tate  goes  back- 

2.  Then  they  cast  off  by  degrees  private  duties,  as  closet  prayer,  curbing  their 
lusts,  watching,  sorrow  for  sin,  and  the  like. 

3.  Then  they  shun  the  company  of  lively  and  warm  Christians. 

4.  After  that  they  grow  cold  to  public  duty,  as  hearing,  reading,  godly  conference, 
and  the  like. 

5.  Then  they  begin  to  pick  holes,  as  we  say,  in  the  coats  of  some  of  the  godly, 
and  that  devilishly,  that  they  may  have  a  seeming  color  to  throw  religion,  for  the 
sake  of  some  infirmities  they  have  espied  in  them,  behind  their  backs. 

6.  Then  they  begin  to  adhere  to  and  associate  themselves  with  carnal,  loose,  and 
wanton  men. 

7.  Then  they  give  way  to  carnal  and  wanton  discourses  in  secret ;  and  glad  are 


1 82  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

they  if  they  can  see  such  things  in  any  that  are  counted  honest,  that  they  may  the 
more  boldly  do  it  through  their  example. 

8.  After  this  they  begin  to  play  with  little  sins  openly. 

9.  And  then,  being  hardened,  they  show  themselves  as  they  are.     Thus,  being 
launched  again  into  the  gulf  of  misery,  unless  a  miracle  of  grace  prevent  it,  they  ever- 
lastingly perish  in  their  own  deceivings. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  by  this  time  the  pilgrims  were  got  over  the 
Enchanted  Ground,  and  entering  into  the  country  of  Beulah,  whose  air  The  land  of 
was  very  sweet  and  pleasant,  Isa.  62:4-12;  Song  2  :  10-12,  the  way  lying  Beulah- 
directly  through  it,  they  solaced  themselves  there  for  a  season.  Yea,  here  they  heard 
continually  the  singing  of  birds  and  saw  every  day  the  flowers  appear  in  the  earth 
and  heard  the  voice  of  the  turtle  in  the  land.  In  this  country  the  sun  shineth  night 
and  day :.  wherefore  this  was  beyond  the  valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  and  also  out 
of  the  reach  of  Giant  Despair;  neither  could  they  from  this  place  so  much  as  see 
Doubting  Castle.  Here  they  were  within  sight  of  the  city  they  were  going  to ;  also 
here  met  them  some  of  the  inhabitants  thereof;  for  in  this  land  the  Angeis. 
Shining  Ones  commonly  walked,  because  it  was  upon  the  borders  of  heaven.  In  this 
land  also  the  contract  between  the  bride  and  the  Bridegroom  was  renewed ;  yea,  here 
"  as  the  bridegroom  rejoiceth  over  the  bride,  so  doth  their  God  rejoice  over  them." 
Here  they  had  no  want  of  corn  and  wine ;  for  in  this  place  they  met  with  abundance 
of  what  they  had  sought  for  in  all  their  pilgrimage.  Here  they  heard  voices  from  out 
the  city,  loud  voices,  saying,  "  Say  ye  to  the  daughter  of  Zion,  Behold,  thy  salvation 
cometh !  Behold,  his  reward  is  with  him."  Here  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  country 
called  them  "  the  holy  people,  the  redeemed  of  the  Lord,  sought  out,"  etc. 

Now  as  they  walked  in  this  land  they  had  more  rejoicing  than  in  parts  more 

remote  from  the  kingdom  to  which  they  were  bound ;  and  drawing  near  to  the  city, 

'   they  had  yet  a  more  perfect  view  thereof.     It  was  builded  of  pearls  and  precious 

stones,  also  the  streets  thereof  were  paved  with  gold ;  so  that,  by  reason  of  the  natural 

glory  of  the  city  and  the  reflection  of  the  sunbeams  upon  it,  Christian  with  desire  fell 

sick  ;  Hopeful  also  had  a  fit  or  two  of  the  same  disease ;  wherefore  here  they  lay  by  it 

,,  a  while,  crying  out  because  of  their  pangs,  "  If  you  see  my  Beloved,  tell  him  that  I  am 

sick  of  love." 

But,  being  a  little  strengthened  and  better  able  to  bear  their  sickness,  they  walked 
on  their  way  and  came  yet  nearer  and  nearer,  where  were  orchards,  vineyards,  and 
gardens,  and  their  gates  opened  into  the  highway.  Now  as  they  came  up  to  these 
places,  behold  the  gardener  stood  in  the  way ;  to  whom  the  pilgrims  said,  "  Whose 
goodly  vineyards  and  gardens  are  these  ?" 

He  answered,  "  They  are  the  King's,  and  are  planted  here  for  his  own  delight 
and  also  for  the  solace  of  pilgrims."  So  the  gardener  had  them  into  the  vineyards 
and  bid  them  refresh  themselves  with  the  dainties,  Deut.  23  :  24;  he  also  showed  them 
there  the  King's  walks  and  arbors  where  he  delighted  to  be ;  and  here  they  tarried 
and  slept. 

Now  I  beheld  in  my  dream  that  they  talked  more  in  their  sleep  at  this  time  than 


CROSSING  THE  RIVER.  183 

ever  they  did  in  all  their  journey ;  and  being  in  a  muse  thereabout,  the  gardener  said 
even  to  me,  "  Wherefore  musest  thou  at  the  matter  ?  It  is  the  nature  of  the  fruit  of  the 
grapes  of  these  vineyards  '  to  go  down  so  sweetly  as  to  cause  the  lips  of  them  that  are 
asleep  to  speak.'  "  Song' 7  : 9. 

So  I  saw  that  when  they  awoke  they  addressed  themselves  to  go  up  to  the  city. 
But,  as  I  said,  the  reflection  of  the  sun  upon  the  city  (for  the  city  was  pure  gold,  Rev. 
21  : 1 8)  was  so  extremely  gloi:ous  that  they  could  not  as  yet  with  open  face  behold  it, 
but  through  an  instrument  made  for  that  purpose.  2  Cor.  3:  18.  So  I  saw  that  as 
they  went  on,  there  met  them  two  men  in  raiment  that  shone  like  gold,  also  their 
faces  shone  as  the  light. 

These  men  asked  the  pilgrims  whence  they  came,  and  they  told  them.  They  also 
asked  them  where  they  had  lodged,  what  difficulties  and  dangers,  what  comforts  and 
pleasures,  they  had  met  with  in  the  way ;  and  they  told  them.  Then  said  the  men 
that  met  them,  "  You  have  but  two  difficulties  more  to  meet  with,  and  then  you  are  in 
the  city." 

Christian  then  and  his  companion  asked  the  men  to  go  along  with  them ;  so  they 
told  them  that  they  would.  "  But,"  said  they,  "  you  must  obtain  it  by  your  own  faith." 
So  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  they  went  on  together  till  they  came  in  sight  of  the 
gate. 

Now  I  further  saw  that  between  them  and  the  gate  was  a  river ;  but  there  was  noy 

Death.  bridge  to  go  over,  and  the  river  was  very  deep.  At  the  sight,  therefore, 
of  this  river  the  pilgrims  were  much  stunned  ;  but  the  men  that  went  with  them  said, 
"  You  must  go  through  or  you  cannot  come  at  the  gate." 

The  pilgrims  then  began  to  inquire  if  there  was  no  other  way  to  the  gate.  To 
which  they  answered,  "  Yes ;  but  there  hath  not  any,  save  two,  to  wit,  Enoch  and 
Elijah,  been  permitted  to  tread  that  path  since  the  foundation  of  the  world,  nor  shall 

Death  notwei-  until  the  last  trumpet  shall  sound."     The  pilgrims  then,  especially  Chris- 
come   to    nature,      .  .  •          •     i  i   <  i     <  « 

though  by  it  we  tian,  began  to  despond  in  their  mind,  and  looked  this  way  and  that,  but 

pass   out   of  this  r  ' 

world  into  giory.     no  way  could  be  found  by  them  by  which  they  might  escape  the  river. 
Then  they  asked  the  men  if  the  waters  were  all  of  a  depth.     They  say,  "  No ;"  yet 
they  could  not  help  them  in  that  case;  "for,"  said  they,  "you  shall  find  it  deeper  orV" 
shallower  as  you  believe  in  the  King  of  the  place." 

They  then  addressed  themselves  to  the  water,  and  entering,  Christian  began  to 
sink,  and  crying  out  to  his  good  friend  Hopeful,  he  said,  "  I  sink  in  deep  waters ;  the 
billows  go  over  my  head  ;  all  his  waves  go  over  me.  Selah." 

Then  said  the  other,  "  Be  of  good  cheer,  my  brother :  I  feel  the  bottom  and  it  is 
good." 

Then  said  Christian,  "  Ah,  my  friend,  the  sorrows  of  death  have  compassed  me 
about ;  I  shall  not  see  the  land  that  flows  with  milk  and  honey." 
Christian's  con-          And  with  that  a  great  darkness  and  horror  fell  upon  Christian  so 

flict  at  the  hour  of  ,•  1  •  *  1         1  i        •  1 

death.  that  he  could  not  see  before  him.     Also  here  he  in  a  great  measure  lost 

his  senses,  so  that  he  could  neither  remember  nor  orderly  talk  of  any  of  those  sweet 
refreshments  that  he  had  met  with  in  the  way  of  his  pilgrimage.  But  all  the  words 


CHRISTIAN   BRAKE  OUT   WITH  A   LOUD  VOICE,   '  OH!     I   SEE   HIM   AGAIN!'" 


THEY  CROSS  THE  RIVER. 


185 


. 


that  he  spoke  still  tended  to  discover  that  he  had  horror  of  mind  and  heart-fears  that 
he  should  die  in  the  river  and  never  obtain  entrance  in  at  the  gate.  Here  also,  as 
they  that  stood  by  perceived,  he  was  much  in  the  troublesome  thoughts  of  the  sins 
that  he  had  committed,  both  since  and  before  he  began  to  be  a  pilgrim.  It  was  also 
observed  that  he  was  troubled  with  apparitions  of  hobgoblins  and  evil  spirits ;  for  ever^ 
and  anon  he  would  intimate  so  much  by  words. 

Hopeful  therefore  here  had  much  ado  to  keep  his  brother's  head  above  water ; 
yea,  sometimes  he  would  be  quite  gone  down,  and  then,  ere  a  while,  he  would  rise  up 
again  half  dead.  Hopeful  did  also  endeavor  to  comfort  him,  saying,  "  Brother,  I  see 
the  gate  and  men  standing  by  to  receive  us." 

But  Christian  would  answer,  "  It  is  you,  it  is  you  they  wait  for ;  for  you  have  been 
hopeful  ever  since  I  knew  you." 

"And  so  have  you,"  said  he  to  Christian. 

"  Ah,  brother,"  said  Christian,  "  surely  if  I  was  right  he  would  now  arise  to  help 
me  ;  but  for  my  sins  he  hath  brought  me  into  the  snare  and  hath  left  me." 

Then  said  Hopeful,  "  My  brother,  you  have  quite  forgot  the  text  where  it  is  said 
of  the  wicked, '  There  are  no  bands  in  their  death,  but  their  strength  is  firm ;  they  are 
not  troubled  as  other  men,  neither  are  they  plagued  like  other  men.'  Psa.  73:4,  5. 

These  troubles  and  distresses  that  you  go 
through  in  these  waters  are  no  sign  that 
God  hath  forsaken  you ;  but  are  sent  to  try 
you  whether  you  will  call  to  mind  that 
which  heretofore  you  have  received  of  his 
goodness,  and  live  upon  him  in  your  dis- 
tresses." 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  Chris- 
tian was  in  a  muse  a  while.     To  whom 
also  Hopeful  added   these  words,  "Be  of 
good    cheer;    Jesus   Christ   maketh  thee 
Christian  cieiiv-  whole."   And  with  that  Chris- 

erecl  from  liis  fears  .  , 

IB  death.  tian  broke  out  with   a   loud 

voice,  "  Oh,  I  see  him  again ;  and  he  tells 
me,  '  When  thou  passest  through  the  wa- 
ters, I  will  be  with  thee ;  and  through  the 
rivers,  they  shall  not  overflow  thee.'  "  Isa.- 
43  :  2.  Then  they  both  took  courage,  and  y 
the  enemy  was  after  that  as  still  as  a 
stone,  until  they  were  gone  over.  Chris- 
tian therefore  presently  found  ground  to 
stand  upon,  and  so  it  followed  that  the 
rest  of  the  river  was  but  shallow.  Thus  , 
they  got  over. 

Now  upon  the  bank  of  the  river,  on  the  other  side,  they  saw  the  two  shining 
24 


"THUS  THKY   GOT   OVER." 


1 86  PIL  GRIM  'S  PROGRESS. 

men  again,  who  there  waited  for  them.     Wherefore,  being  come  out  of       The  angeis  <j« 

...  ,-,  -,     ,     ,     ,-,  ,,  TTT  .     .    ,       .  ...  ,     wait  for  them  so 

the  river,  they  saluted  them,  saying,  "  We  are  ministering  spirits,  sent  soon  as  they  are 
forth  to  minister  for  those  that  shall  be  heirs  of  salvation."     Thus  they  worm, 
went  along  towards  the  gate. 

Now  you  must  note  that  the  city  stood  upon  a  mighty  hill ;  but  the  pilgrims  went 
up  that  hill  with  ease,  because  they  had  these  two  men  to  lead  them  up  by  the  arms ; 
they  had  likewise  left  their  mortal  garments  behind  them  in  the  river ;  for  though 
they  went  in  with  them,  they  came  out  without  them.  They  therefore  went  up  here 
with  much  agility  and  speed,  though  the  foundation  upon  which  the  city  was  framed 
was  higher  than  the  clouds ;  they  therefore  went  up  through  the  region  of  the  air, 
sweetly  talking  as  they  went,  being  comforted  because  they  safely  got  over  the  river 
and  had  such  glorious  companions  to  attend  them. 

The  talk  that  they  had  with  the  Shining  Ones  was  about  the  glory  of  the  place ; 
who  told  them  that  the  beauty  and  glory  of  it  was  inexpressible.  "  There,"  said  they, 
vj'  is  '  Mt.  Sion±  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  the  innumerable  company  of  angels,  and 
the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect.'  Heb.  12:22-24.  You  are  going  now,"  said 
they,  "  to  the  paradise  of  God,  wherein  you  shall  see  the  tree  of  life  and  eat  of  the 
never-fading  fruits  thereof:  and  when  you  come  there  you  shall  have  white  robes 
given  you,  and  your  walk  and  talk  shall  be  every  day  with  the  King,  even  all  the 
days  of  eternity.  Rev.  2:7;  3:4,  5;  22:5.  There  you  shall  not  see  again  such 
things  as  you  saw  when  you  were  in  the  lower  region  upon  the  earth,  to  wit,  sorrow, 
sickness,  affliction,  and  death;  'for  the  former  things  are  passed  away.'  Rev.  21  14. 
You  are  going  now  to  Abraham,  to  Isaac  and  Jacob,  and  to  the  prophets,  men  that 
God  hath  taken  away  from  the  evil  to  come,  and  that  are  now  'resting  upon  their 
beds,  each  one  walking  in  his  righteousness.'  " 

The  men  then  asked,  "  What  must  we  do  in  the  holy  place  ?" 

To  whom  it  was  answered,  "  You  must  there  receive  the  comfort  of  all  your  toil, 
and  have  joy  for  all  your  sorrow ;  you  must  reap  what  you  have  sown,  even  the  fruit 
•of  all  your  prayers  and  tears  and  sufferings  for  the  King  by  the  way.  Gal.  6:7,  8.  In 
that  place  you  must  wear  crowns  of  gold  and  enjoy  the  perpetual  sight  and  vision  of 
the  Holy  One;  for  'there  you  shall  see  him  as  he  is.'  i  John  3:2.  There  also  you 
shall  serve  him  continually  with  praise,  with  shouting  and  thanksgiving,  whom  you 
desired  to  serve  in  the  world,  though  with  much  difficulty,  because  of  the  infirmity  of 
your  flesh.  There  your  eyes  shall  be  delighted  with  seeing,  and  your  ears  with  hear- 
ing the  pleasant  voice  of  the  Mighty  One.  There  you  shall  enjoy  your  friends  again 
that  are  gone  thither  before  you  ;  and  there  you  shall  with  joy  receive  even  every  one 
that  follows  into  the  holy  place  after  you.  There  also  you  shall  be  clothed  with  glory 
and  majesty,  and  put  into  an  equipage  fit  to  ride  out  with  the  King  of  glory.  When 
he  shall  come  with  sound  of  trumpet  in  the  clouds,  as  upon  the  wings  of  the  wind, 
you  shall  come  with  him ;  and  when  he  shall  sit  upon  the  throne  of  judgment,  you 
shall  sit  by  him  ;  yea,  and  when  he  shall  pass  sentence  upon  the  workers  of  iniquity, 
let  them  be  angels  or  men,  you  also  shall  have  a  voice  in  that  judgment,  because  they 
were  his  and  your  enemies.  Also,  when  he  shall  again  return  to  the  city,  you  shall 


THEIR  WELCOME  A  T  THE  GA  TE. 


187 


go  too  with  sound  of  trumpet,  and  be  ever  with  him."  i  Thess.  4: 14-17 ;  Jude  14,  15  ; 
Dan.  7  :  9,  10 ;  i  Cor.  6:2,  3. 

Now  while  they  were  thus  drawing  towards  the  gate,  behold  a  company  of  the     / 
heavenly  host  came  out  to  meet  them  ;  to  whom  it  was  said  by  the  other       Their  welcome 
two  Shining  Ones,  "These  are  the  men  that  have  loved  our  Lord  when  toheaven- 
they  were  in  the  world,  and  that  have  left  all  for  his  holy  name ;  and  he  hath  sent  us 
to  fetch  them,  and  we  have  brought  them  thus  far  on  their  desired  journey,  that  they 
may  go  in  and  look  their  Redeemer  in  the  face  with  joy." 

Then  the  heavenly  host  gave  a  great  shout,  saying,  "  Blessed  are  they  that  are 
called  to  the  marriage-supper  of  the  Lamb."  Rev.  19  : 9.  There  came  out  also  at  this 
time  to  meet  them  several  of  the  King's  trumpeters,  clothed  in  white  and  shining 
raiment,  who,  with  melodious  noises  and 
loud,  made  even  the  heavens  to  echo  with 
their  sound.  These  trumpeters  saluted 
Christian  and  his  fellow  with  ten  thousands! 
welcomes  from  the  world ;  and  this  they 
did  with  shouting  and  sound  of  trumpet. 

This  done,  they  compassed  them  round 
on  every  side  ;  some  went  before,  some  be- 
hind, and  some  on  the  right  hand,  and 
some  on  the  left  (as  it  were  to  guard  them 
through  the  upper  regions),  continually 
sounding  as  they  went,  with  melodious  /• 
noise,  in  notes  on  high ;  so  that  the  very 
sight  was  to  them  that  could  behold  it  as 
if  heaven  itself  was  .come  down  to  meet 
them.  Thus,  therefore,  they  walked  on 
together ;  and  as  they  walked,  ever  and 
anon  these  trumpeters,  even  with  joyful 
sound,  would,  by  mixing  their  music  with 
looks  and  gestures,  still  signify  to  Chris- 
tian and  his  brother  how  welcome  they 
were  into  their  company,  and  with  what 
gladness  they  came  to  meet  them.  And 
now  were  these  two  men  as  it  were  in 

heaven  before  they  came  to  it,  being  swallowed  up  with  the  sight  of  angels  and  with 
hearing  of  their  melodious  notes.  Here  also  they  had  the  city  itself  in  view ;  and 
they  thought  they  heard  all  the  bells  therein  to  ring,  to  welcome  them  thereto.  But 
above  all,  the  warm  and  joyful  thoughts  that  they  had  about  their  own  dwelling  there 
with  such  company,  and  that  for  ever  and  ever,  oh,  by  what  tongue  or  pen  can  their 
glorious  joy  be  expressed !  Thus  they  came  up  to  the  gate. 

Now  when  they  were  come  up  to  the  gate,  there  was  written  over  it  in  letters 
of  gold, 


"WITH   SHOUTING  AND  SOUND  OF  TRUMPET." 


188  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

"  BLESSED  ARE  THEY  THAT  DO  HIS  COMMANDMENTS,    THAT   THEY    MAY    HAVE 

RIGHT  TO   THE   TREE  OF   LIFE,  AND    MAY  ENTER   IN   THROUGH   THE 

GATES   INTO  THE   CITY." 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  the  shining  men  bid  them  call  at  the  gate :  the 
which  when  they  did,  some  from  above  looked  over  the  gate,  to  wit,  Enoch,  Moses, 
and  Elijah,  etc.,  to  whom  it  was  said,  "  These  pilgrims  are  come  from  the  city  of 
Destruction,  for  the  love  that  they  bear  to  the  King  of  this  place ;"  and  then  the 
pilgrims  gave  in  unto  them  each  man  his  certificate,  which  they  had  received  in  the 
beginning ;  those  therefore  were  carried  in  unto  the  King,  who,  when  he  had  read 
them,  said,  "Where  are  the  men?"  To  whom  it  was  answered,  "They  are  standing 
without  the  gate."  The  King  then  commanded  to  open  the  gate,  "That  the  righteous 
nation,"  said  he,  "  that  keepeth  the  truth  may  enter  in."  Isa.  26  :  2. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  these  two  men  went  in  at  the  gate  ;  and  lo,  as  they 
entered  they  were  transfigured ;  and  they  had  raiment  put  on  that  shone  like  gold. 
There  were  also  that  met  them  with  harps  and  crowns,  and  gave  them  to  them — the 
harps  to  praise  withal,  and  the  crowns  in  token  of  honor.  Then  I  heard  in  my  dream 
that  all  the  bells  in  the  city  rang  again  for  joy,  and  that  it  was  said  unto  them, 

J       "ENTER  YE  INTO  THE  JOY  OF  YOUR  LORD." 

I  also  heard  the  men  themselves,  that  they  sang  with  a  loud  voice,  saying, 

"BLESSING  AND  HONOR  AND  GLORY  AND  POWER  BE  UNTO  HIM  THAT  SITTETH  UPON 
THE  THRONE,  AND  UNTO  THE  LAMB,  FOR  EVER  AND  EVER." 

Now,  just  as  the  gates  were  opened  to  let  in  the  men,  I  looked  in  after  them,  and 
behold,  the  city  shone  like  the  sun ;  the  streets  also  were  paved  with  gold ;  and  in 
them  walked  many  men  with  crowns  on  their  heads,  palms  in  their  hands,  and  golden 
harps  to  sing  praises  withal. 

There  were  also  of  them  that  had  wings,  and  they  answered  one  another  without 
intermission,  saying,  "  Holy,  holy,  holy  is  the  Lord."  And  after  that  they  shut  up  the 
gates ;  which,  when  I  had  seen,  I  wished  myself  among  them. 

Now  while  I  was  gazing  upon  all  these  things  I  turned  my  head  to  look  back, 
.  and  saw  Ignorance  come  up  to  the  river  side  ;  but  he  soon  got  over,  and  ign0rance  comes 
4  that  without  half  the  difficulty  which  the  other  two  men  met  with.  For  up  to  the  river- 

it  happened  that  there  was  then  in  that  place  one  Vain-hope,  a  ferryman,  that  with 
^  his  boat  helped  him  over ;  so  he,  as  the  others  I  saw,  did  ascend  the  hill  to  come  up 
to  the  gate ;  only  he  came  alone,  neither  did  any  man  meet  him  with  the  least  encour- 
agement. When  he  was  come  up  to  the  gate  he  looked  up  to  the  writing  that  was 
above,  and  then  began  to  knock,  supposing  that  entrance  should  have  been  quickly 
administered  to  him ;  but  he  was  asked  by  the  men  that  looked  over  the  top  of  the 
gate,  "  Whence  come  you  ?  and  what  would  you  have  ?" 


190 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


He  answered,  "  I  have  ate  and  drank 
id  the  presence  of  the  King,  and  he  has 
taught  in  our  streets." 

Then  they  asked  him  for  his  certifi- 
cate, that  they  might  go  in  and  show  it 
to  the  King ;  so  he  fumbled  in  his  bosom 
for  one,  and  found  none. 

Then  said  they,  "  Have  you  none  ?" 
but  the  man  answered  never  a  wor;d. 

So  they  told  the  King,  but  he"  would 
not  come  down  to  see  him,  but  command- 
ed the  two  Shining  Ones  that  conducted 
Christian  and  Hopeful  to  the  city,  to  go 
out  and  take  Ignorance  and  bind  him 
hand  and  foot  and  have  him  away.  Then 
they  took  him  up  and  carried  him  through 
the  air  to  the  door  that  I  saw  in  the  side 
of  the  hill,  and  put  him  in  there.  Then  I 
saw  that  there  was  a  way  to  hell  even 
from  the  gate  of  heaven  as  well  as  from 
the  city  of  Destruction. 


"BEHOLD,  IT  WAS  A  DREAM." 


So  I  awoke,  and  behold,  it  was  a  dream. 


CONCLUSION. 


CONCLUSION. 


Now,  reader,  I  have  told  my  dream  to  thee, 

See  if  thou  canst  interpret  it  to  me, 

Or  to  thyself  or  neighbor:  but  take  heed 

Of  misinterpreting;  for  that,  instead 

Of  doing  good,  will  but  thyself  abuse : 

By  misinterpreting,  evil  ensues. 

Take  heed,  also,  that  thou  be  not  extreme 

In  playing  with  the  outside  of  my  dream ; 

Nor  let  my  figure  or  similitude 

Put  thee  into  a  laughter  or  a  feud. 

Leave  this  for  boys  and  fools ;  but  as  for  thee, 

Do  thou  the  substance  of  my  matter  see. 

Put  by  the  curtains,  look  within  my  veil, 

Turn  up  my  metaphors,  and  do  not  fail. 

There,  if  thou  seekest  them,  such  things  thou  'It  find 

As  will  be  helpful  to  an  honest  mind. 

What  of  my  dross  thou  findest  there,  be  bold 

To  throw  away,  but  yet  preserve  the  gold. 

What  if  my  gold  be  wrapped  up  in  ore  ? 

None  throws  away  the  apple  for  the  core : 

But  if  thou  shall  cast  all  away  as  vain, 

I  know  not  but 't  will  make  me  dream  again. 


THE 


PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS 


FROM 


THIS  WORLD  TO  THAT  WHICH  IS  TO  COME ; 


DELIVERED 


UNDER    THE    SIMILITUDE    OF    A    DREAM. 


PART    II. 


WHEREIN  IS  SET  FORTH  THE  MANNER  OF  THE  SETTING  OUT  OF  CHRISTIAN'S  WIFE 
AND  CHILDREN,  THEIR  DANGEROUS  JOURNEY,  AND  SAFE  ARRIVAL  AT 

THE  DESIRED  COUNTRY. 


I  HAVE  USED  SIMILITUDES.     HOSEA  12:10. 


THE 


AUTHOR'S    WAY 


OF 


SENDING    FORTH    HIS    SECOND   PART 


OF 


THE    PILGRIM. 


Go  now,  my  little  Book,  to  every  place 
Where  my  first  Pilgrim  has  but  shown  his  face : 
Call  at  their  door;  if  any  say,  "Who  's  there?" 
Then  answer  thou,  "  CHRISTIANA  is  here." 
If  they  bid  thee  come  in,  then  enter  thou, 
With  all  thy  boys ;  and  then,  as  thou  knowest  how, 
Tell  who  they  are,  also  from  whence  they  came ; 
Perhaps  they  '11  know  them  by  their  looks  or  name : 
But  if  they  should  not,  ask  them  yet  again 
If  formerly  they  did  not  entertain 
One  CHRISTIAN,  a  Pilgrim.     If  they  say 
They  did,  and  were  delighted  in  his  way, 
Then  let  them  know  that  these  related  were 
Unto  him ;  yea,  his  wife  and  children  are. 

Tell  them  that  they  have  left  their  house  and  home, 
Are  turned  Pilgrims,  seek  a  world  to  come : 
That  they  have  met  with  hardships  in  the  way  ; 
That  they  do  meet  with  troubles  night  and  day ; 
That  they  have  trod  on  serpents,  fought  with  devils, 
Have  also  overcome  a  many  evils : 
Yea,  tell  them  also  of  the  next  who  have, 
Of  love  to  pilgrimage,  been  stout  and  brave 
Defenders  of  that  way ;  and  how  they  still 
Refuse  this  world  to  do  their  Father's  will. 
Go  tell  them  also  of  those  dainty  things 
That  pilgrimage  unto  the  Pilgrim  brings. 


196  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Let  them  acquainted  be,  too,  how  they  are 
Beloved  of  their  King,  under  his  care ; 
What  goodly  mansions  he  for  them  provides ; 
Though  they  meet  with  rough  winds  and  swelling  tides, 
How  brave  a  calm  they  will  enjoy  at  last 
Who  to  their  Lord  and  by  his  ways  hold  fast. 

Perhaps  with  heart  and  hand  they  will  embrace 
Thee,  as  they  did  my  firstling;  and  will  grace 
Thee  and  thy  fellows  with  such  cheer  and  fare 
As  show  well  they  of  pilgrims  lovers  are. 

OBJECTION    I. 

But  how  if  they  will  not  believe  of  me 
That  I  am  truly  thine  ?  'cause  some  there  be 
That  counterfeit  the  Pilgrim  and  his  name, 
Seek,  by  disguise,  to  seem  the  very  same  ; 
And  by  that  means  have  wrought  themselves  into 
The  hands  and  houses  of  I  know  not  who. 

ANSWER. 

'T  is  true  some  have,  of  late,  to  counterfeit 
My  Pilgrim,  to  their  own  my  title  set ; 
Yea,  others  half  my  name,  and  title  too, 
Have  stitched  to  their  books,  to  make  them  do. 
But  yet  they,  by  their  features,  do  declare 
Themselves  not  mine  to  be,  whose  e'er  they  are. 

If  such  thou  meetest,  then  thine  only  way 
Before  them  all  is  to  say  out  thy  say 
In  thine  own  native  language,  which  no  man 
Now  useth,  nor  with  ease  dissemble  can. 

If,  after  all,  they  still  of  you  shall  doubt, 
Thinking  that  you,  like  gypsies,  go  about 
In  naughty  wise  the  country  to  defile, 
Or  that  you  seek  good  people  to  beguile 
With  things  unwarrantable,  send  for  me, 
And  I  will  testify  you  pilgrims  be; 
Yea,  I  will  testify  that  only  you 
My  pilgrims  are,  and  that  alone  will  do. 

OBJECTION   II. 

But  yet,  perhaps  I  may  inquire  for  him 
Of  those  who  wish  him  damned  life  and  limb. 
What  shall  I  do  when  I  ac  such  a  door 
For  pilgrims  ask,  and  they  shall  rage  the  more  ? 


AUTHOR'S  INTRODUCTION. 

ANSWER. 

Fright  not  thyself,  my  Book,  for  such  bugbears 
Are  nothing  else  but  ground  for  groundless  fears. 
My  Pilgrim's  book  has  travelled  sea  and  land, 
Yet  could  I  never  come  to  understand 
That  it  was  slighted  or  turned  out  of  door 
By  any  kingdom,  were  they  rich  or  poor. 
In  France  and  Flanders,  where  men  kill  each  other, 
My  Pilgrim  is  esteemed  a  friend,  a  brother. 

In  Holland,  too,  'tis  said,  as  I  am  told, 
My  Pilgrim  is,  with  some,  worth  more  than  gold. 
Highlanders  and  wild  Irish  can  agree 
My  Pilgrim  should  familiar  with  them  be. 

T  is  in  New  England  under  such  advance, 
Receives  there  so  much  loving  countenance, 
As  to  be  trimmed,  new  clothed,  and  decked  with  gems, 
That  it  might  show  its  features  and  its  limbs. 
Yet  more,  so  comely  doth  my  Pilgrim  walk, 
That  of  him  thousands  daily  sing  and  talk. 

If  you  draw  nearer  home,  it  will  appear 
My  Pilgrim  knows  no  ground  of  shame  or  fear: 
City  and  country  will  him  entertain 
With,  Welcome,  Pilgrim ;  yea,  they  can't  refrain 
From  smiling,  if  my  Pilgrim  be  but  by, 
Or  shows  his  head  in  any  company. 

Brave  gallants  do  my  Pilgrim  hug  and  love, 
Esteem  it  much,  yea,  value  it  above 
Things  of  a  greater  bulk ;  yea,  with  delight 
Say  my  lark's  leg  is  better  than  a  kite. 
Young  ladies,  and  young  gentlewomen  too, 
Do  not  small  kindness  to  my  Pilgrim  show  : 
Their  cabinets,  their  bosoms,  and  their  hearts 
My  Pilgrim  has ;  'cause  he  to  them  imparts 
His  pretty  riddles  in  such  wholesome  strains 
As  yield  them  profit  double  to  their  pains 
Of  reading ;  yea,  I  think  I  may  be  bold 
To  say  some  prize  him  far  above  their  gold. 
The  very  children  that  do  walk  the  street, 
If  they  do  but  my  'holy  Pilgrim  meet, 
Salute  him  will ;  will  wish  him  well,  and  say 
He  is  the  only  stripling  of  the  day. 


197 


198  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

They  that  have  never  seen  him,  yet  admire 
What  they  have  heard  of  him,  and  much  desire 
To  have  his  company  and  hear  him  tell 
Those  pilgrim  stories  which  he  knows  so  well. 

Yea,  some  that  did  not  love  him  at  the  first, 
But  called  him  fool  and  noddy,  say  they  must, 
Now  they  have  seen  and  heard  him,  him  commend, 
And  to  those  whom  they  love  they  do  him  send. 

Wherefore,  my  Second  Part,  thou  need'st  not  be 
Afraid  to  show  thy  head :  none  can  hurt  thee 
That  wish  but  well  to  him  that  went  before ; 
'Cause  thou  comest  after  with  a  second  store 
Of  things  as  good,  as  rich,  as  profitable, 
For  young,  for  old,  for  staggering,  and  for  stable. 

OBJECTION  III. 

But  some  there  be  that  say,  He  laughs  too  loud ; 
And  some  do  say,  His  head  is  in  a  cloud. 
Some  say,  His  words  and  stories  are  so  dark, 
They  know  not  how,  by  them,  to  find  his  mark. 

ANSWER. 

One  may,  I  think,  say,  Both  his  laughs  and  cries 
May  well  be  guessed  at  by  his  watery  eyes. 
Some  things  are  of  that  nature  as  to  make 
One's  fancy  chuckle,  while  his  heart  doth  ache : 
When  Jacob  saw  his  Rachel  with  the  sheep, 
He  did  at  the  same  time  both  kiss  and  weep. 

Whereas  some  say,  A  cloud  is  in  his  head ; 
That  doth  but  show  his  wisdom  's  covered 
With  his  own  mantle — and  to  stir  the  mind 
To  search  well  after  what  it  fain  would  find, 
Things  that  seem  to  be  hid  in  words  obscure 
Do  but  the  godly  mind  the  more  allure 
To  study  what  those  sayings  should  contain 
That  speak  to  us  in  such  a  cloudy  strain. 
I  also  know  a  dark  similitude 
Will  on  the  curious  fancy  more  intrude, 
And  will  stick  faster  in  the  heart  and  head, 
Than  things  from  similes  not  borrowed. 

Wherefore,  my  Book,  let  no  discouragement 
Hinder  thy  travels.     Behold,  thou  art  sent 
To  friends,  not  foes ;  to  friends  that  will  give  place 
To  thee,  thy  pilgrims,  and  thy  words  embrace. 


A  UTHORS  IN  TROD  UCTION.  199 

Besides,  what  my  first  Pilgrim  left  concealed, 
Thou,  my  brave  second  Pilgrim,  hast  revealed ; 
What  Christian  left  locked  up,  and  went  his  way, 
Sweet  Christiana  opens  with  her  key. 

OBJECTION  IV. 

But  some  love  not  the  method  of  your  first 
Romance  they  count  it ;  throw  't  away  as  dust. 
If  I  should  meet  with  such,  what  should  I  say? 
Must  I  slight  them  as  they  slight  me,  or  nay? 

ANSWER. 

My  Christiana,  if  with  such  thou  meet, 
By  all  means  in  all  loving  wise  them  greet ; 
Render  them  not  reviling  for  revile, 
But,  if  they  frown,  I  prithee  on  them  smile : 
Perhaps  't  is  nature,  or  some  ill  report, 
Has  made  them  thus  despise  or  thus  retort. 

Some  love  no  fish,  some  love  no  cheese,  and  some 
Love  not  their  friends,  nor  their  own  house  or  home ; 
Some  start  at  pig,  slight  chicken,  love  not  fowl 
More  than  they  love  a  cuckoo  or  an  owl. 
Leave  such,  my  Christiana,  to  their  choice, 
And  seek  those  who  to  find  thee  will  rejoice; 
By  no  means  strive,  but,  in  most  humble  wise, 
Present  thee  to  them  in  thy  Pilgrim's  guise. 

Go  then,  my  little  Book,  and  show  to  all 
That  entertain  and  bid  thee  welcome  shall, 
What  thou  shall  keep  close  shut  up  from  the  rest; 
And  wish  what  thou  shall  show  them  may  be  blessed 
To  ihem  for  good,  and  make  ihem  choose  to  be 
Pilgrims,  by  betler  far  than  thee  or  me. 
Go  then,  I  say,  lell  all  men  who  ihou  art: 
Say,  "  I  am  Chrisliana  ;  and  my  part 
Is  now,  with  my  four  sons,  to  lell  you  what 
It  is  for  men  lo  lake  a  pilgrim's  lot." 

Go,  also,  tell  ihem  who  and  whal  ihey  be 
That  now  do  go  on  pilgrimage  with  thee : 
Say,  "  Here 's  my  neighbor  Mercy ;  she  is  one 
Thai  has  long  time  wilh  me  a  pilgrim  gone : 
Come,  see  her  in  her  virgin  face,  and  learn 
'Twixl  idle  ones  and  pilgrims  lo  discern. 
Yea,  lei  young  damsels  learn  of  her  lo  prize 
The  world  which  is  lo  come,  in  any  wise. 


200  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

When  little  tripping  maidens  follow  God, 

And  leave  old  doting  sinners  to  his  rod, 

'T  is  like  those  days  wherein  the  young  ones  cried 

Hosanna !  when  the  old  ones  did  deride." 

Next,  tejl  them  of  old  Honest,  whom  you  found 
With  his  white  hairs  treading  the  pilgrim's  ground ; 
Yea,  tell  them  how  plain-hearted  this  man  was  ; 
How  after  his  good  Lord  he  bore  the  cross. 
Perhaps  with  some  gray  head  this  may  prevail 
With  Christ  to  fall  in  love,  and  sin  bewail. 

Tell  them  also  how  Master  Fearing  went 
On  pilgrimage,  and  how  the  time  he  spent 
In  solitariness,  with  fears  and  cries ; 
And  how,  at  last,  he  won  the  joyful  prize. 
He  was  a  good  man,  though  much  down  in  spirit: 
He  is  a  good  man,  and  doth  life  inherit. 

Tell  them  of  Master  Feeble-mind  also, 
Who  not  before,  but  still  behind,  would  go. 
Show  them  also  how  he  had  like  been  slain, 
And  how  one  Great-heart  did  his  life  regain. 
This  man  was  true  of  heart ;  though  weak  in  grace, 
One  might  true  godliness  read  in  his  face. 

Then  tell  them  too  of  Master  Ready-to-halt, 
A  man  with  crutches,  but  much  without  fault. 
Tell  them  how  Master  Feeble-mind  and  he 
Did  love,  and  in  opinion  much  agree  ; 
And  let  all  know,  though  weakness  was  their  chance, 
Yet  sometimes  one  could  sing,  the  other  dance. 

Forget  not  Master  Valiant-for-the-truth, 
That  man  of  courage,  though  a  very  youth : 
Tell  every  one  his  spirit  was  so  stout, 
No  man  could  ever  make  him  face  about ; 
And  how  Great-heart  and  he  could  not  forbear^ 
But  pull  down  Doubting  Castle,  slay  Despair. 

Overlook  not  Master  Despondency, 
Nor  Much-afraid,  his  daughter,  though  they  lie 
Under  such  mantles  as  may  make  them  look, 
With  some,  as  if  their  God  had  them  forsook. 
They  softly  went,  but  sure ;  and,  at  the  end, 
Found  that  the  Lord  of  pilgrims  was  their  friend. 


AUTHOR'S  INTRODUCTION.  201 

When  thou  hast  told  the  world  of  all  these  things, 
Then  turn  about,  my  Book,  and  touch  these  strings ; 
Which,  if  but  touched,  will  such  music  make, 
They  '11  make  a  cripple  dance,  a  giant  quake. 

Those  riddles  that  lie  couched  within  thy  breast, 
Freely  propound,  expound ;  and  for  the  rest 
Of  thy  mysterious  lines,  let  them  remain 
For  those  whose  nimble  fancies  shall  them  gain. 

Now  may  this  little  book  a  blessing  be 
To  those  who  love  this  little  book  and  me ; 
And  may  its  buyer  have  no  cause  to  say 
His  money  is  but  lost  or  thrown  away. 
Yea,  may  this  second  Pilgrim  yield  that  fruit 
As  may  with  each  good  pilgrim's  fancy  suit ; 
And  may  it  some  persuade,  that  go  astray, 
To  turn  their  feet  and  heart  to  the  right  way, 
Is  the  hearty  prayer  of 

The  author, 


THE 


IN  THE  SIMILITUDE  OF  A  DREAM- 


PART  II. 

THE  FIRST  STAGE. 

COURTEOUS  COMPANIONS  : — Some  time  since,  to  tell  you  my  dream  that  I  had  of 
Christian  the  pilgrim,  and  of  his  dangerous  journey  towards  the  celestial  country,  was 
pleasant  to  me  and  profitable  to  you.  I  told  you  then  also  what  I  saw  concerning  his 
wife  and  children  and  how  unwilling  they  were  to  go  with  him  on  pilgrimage,  inso- 
much that  he  was  forced  to  go  on  his  progress  without  them  ;  for  he  durst  not  run  the 
danger  of  that  destruction  which  he  feared  would  come  by  staying  with  them  in  the 
city  of  Destruction :  wherefore,  as  I  then  showed  you,  he  left  them  and  departed. 

Now  it  hath  so  happened,  through  the  multiplicity  of  business,  that  I  have  been 
much  hindered  and  kept  back  from  my  wonted  travels  into  those  parts  whence  he 
went,  and  so  could  not,  till  now,  obtain  an  opportunity  to  make  further  inquiry  after 
those  whom  he  left  behind,  that  I  might  give  you  an  account  of  them.  But  having 
had  some  concerns  that  way  of  late,  I  went  down  again  thitherward.  Now,  having 
taken  up  my  lodging  in  a  wood  about  a  mile  off  the  place,  as  I  slept  I  dreamed 
again. 

And  as  I  was  in  my  dream,  behold,  an  aged  gentleman  came  by  where  I  lay; 

The  author  and  because  he  was  to  go  some  part  of  the  way  that  I  was  travelling, 
methought  I  got  up  and  went  with  him.  So,  as  we  walked,  and  as 
travellers  usually  do,  I  was  as  if  we  fell  into  a  discourse ;  and  our  talk  happened  to 
be  about  Christian  and  his  travels ;  for  thus  I  began  with  the  old  man : 


meets  Mr.  Sagac- 
ity. 


THE  AUTHOR  AND   MK.    SAGACITY. 


THE  FAME  OF  CHRISTIAN.  205 

"Sir,"  said  I,  "what  town  is  that  there  below  that  lieth  on  the  left  hand  of 
our  way?" 

Then  said  Mr.  Sagacity  (for  that  was  his  name),  "  It  is  the  city  of  Destruction,  a 
populous  place,  but  possessed  with  a  very  ill-conditioned  and  idle  sort  of  people." 

"  I  thought  that  was  that  city,"  quoth  I.  "  I  went  once  myself  through  that  town, 
and  therefore  know  that  this  report  you  give  of  it  is  true." 

SAGACITY.  Too  true.  I  wish  I  could  speak  truth  in  speaking  better  of  them  that 
dwell  therein. 

"  Well,  sir,"  quoth  I,  "  then  I  perceive  you  to  be  a  well-meaning  man,  and  so  one 
that  takes  pleasure  to  hear  and  tell  of  that  which  is  good.  Pray,  did  you  never  hear 
what  happened  to  a  man  some  time  ago  of  this  town,  whose  name  was  Christian,  that 
went  on  a  pilgrimage  up  towards  the  higher  regions  ? 

SAG.  Hear  of  him  ?  Ay,  and  I  also  heard  of  the  molestations,  troubles,  wars,"  cap- 
tivities, cries,  groans,  frights,  and  fears  that  he  met  with  and  had  on  his  journey. 
Besides,  I  must  tell  you  all  our  country  rings  of  him ;  there  are  but  few  houses  that 
have  heard  of  him  and  his  doings  but  have  sought  after  and  got  the  records  of  his 
Christians  are  pilgrimage :  yea,  I  think  I  may  say  that  his  hazardous  -journey  has  got 

wcl1      S""kl'U      "f  11        '    -U  -U-  f         4.1,  t,         t,  t,  t,  i. 

when  gone,  though  many  well-wishers  to  his  ways ;  for  though  when  he  was  here  he  was 

called  fools  while  J  J  .         . 

they  are  here.  "  fool  in  every  man  s  mouth,  yet  now  he  is  gone  he  is  highly  commended 
of  all.  For  't  is  said  he  lives  bravely  where  he  is :  yea,  many  of  them  that  are  resolved 
never  to  run  his  hazards,  yet  have  their  mouths  water  at  his  gains. 

"  They  may,"  quoth  I,  "  well  think,  if  they  think  anything  that  is  true,  that  he 
liveth  well  where  he  is ;  for  he  now  lives  at  and  in  the  Fountain  of  life,  and  has  what 
he  has  without  labor  and  sorrow,  for  there  is  no  grief  mixed  therewith.  But  pray, 
what  talk  have  the  people  about  him?" 

SAG.  Talk  ?  The  people  talk  strangely  about  him  :  some  say  that  he  now  walks  in 
white,  Rev.  3  : 4,  that  he  has  a  chain  of  gold  about  his  neck,  that  he  has  a  crown  of 
gold  beset  with  pearls  upon  his  head ;  others  say  that  the  shining  ones,  who  some- 
times showed  themselves  to  him  in  his  journey,  are  become  his  companions,  and  that 
he  is  as  familiar  with  them,  in  the  place  where  he  is,  as  here  one  neighbor  is  with 
another.  Besides,  it  is  confidently  affirmed  concerning  him  that  the  King  of  the 
place  where  he  is  has  bestowed  upon  him  already  a  very  rich  and  pleasant  dwelling 
at  court,  and  that  he  every  day  eateth  and  drinketh  and  walketh  and  talketh  with 
him,  and  receiveth  of  the  smiles  and  favors  of  him  that  is  Judge  of  all  there. 
Zech.  3:7;  Luke  14:  14,  15.  Moreover,  it  is  expected  of  some  that  his  Prince,  the 
Lord  of  that  country,  will  shortly  come  into  these  parts,  and  will  know  the  reason, 
if  they  can  give  any,  why  his  neighbors  set  so  little  by  him,  and  had  him  so  much  in 
derision  when  they  perceived  that  he  would  be  a  pilgrim.  Jude  14,  15.  For  they 

Christian's  saY  tnat  now  he  is  so  m  tne  affections  of  his  Prince  that  his  Sovereign 
King  honors  inn..  |g  go  muc|1  concerned  with  the  indignities  that  were  cast  upon  Christian 
when  he  became  a  pilgrim,  that  he  will  look  upon  all  as  if  done  unto  himself, 
Luke  10 :  16;  and  no  marvel,  for  it  was  for  the  love  that  he  had  to  his  Prince  that  he 
ventured  as  he  did. 


2O6 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


"  I  dare  say,"  quoth  I.  "  I  am  glad  on  't ;  I  am  glad  for  the  poor  man's  sake,  for 
that  now  he  has  rest  from  his  labor,  and  for  that  he  now  reapeth  the  benefit  of  his 
tears  with  joy,  and  for  that  he  has  got  beyond  the  gunshot  of  his  enemies  and  is  out 
of  the  reach  of  them  that  hate  him.  Rev.  14:  13  ;  Psa.  126:  5,  6.  I  also  am  glad  for 
that  a  rumor  of  these  things  is  noised  abroad  in  this  country ;  who  can  tell  but  that  it 
may  work  some  good  effect  on  some  that  are  left  behind  ?  But  pray,  sir,  while  it  is 
fresh  in  my  mind,  do  you  hear  anything  of  his  wife  and  children  ?  Poor  hearts,  I 
wonder  in  my  mind  what  they  do." 

SAG.  Who  ?  Christiana  and  her  sons  ?  They  are  like  to  do  as  well  as  Christian 
did  himself ;  for  though  they  all  played  the  fool  at  first,  and  would  by  oood  tidings  of 

.   ,  ,    „,      .      .  Christian's      wife 

no  means  be  persuaded  by  either  the  tears  or  entreaties  of  Christian,  ana  children. 

yet  second  thoughts  have  wrought  wonderfully  with  them  ;  so  they  have  packed  up, 

and  are  also  gone  after  him. 

"  Better  and  better,"  quoth  I ;  "  but  what,  wife  and  children  and  all?" 

SAG.  .It  is  true ;  I  can  give  you  an  account  of  the  matter,  for  I  was  upon  the  spot 

at  the  instant,  and  was  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  whole  affair. 

"Then,"  said  I,  "a  man,  it  seems,  may 
report  it  for  a  truth." 

SAG.  You  need  not  fear  to  affirm  it :  I 
mean  that  they  are  all  gone  on  pilgrimage, 
both  the  good  woman  and  her  four  boys. 
And  being  we  are,  as  I  perceive,  going 
some  considerable  way  together,  I  will  give 
you  an  account  of  the  whole  of  the  matter. 

This  Christiana  (for  that  was  her  name 
from  the  day  that  she  with  her  children 
betook  themselves  to  a  pilgrim's  life),  after 
her  husband  was  gone  over  the  river  and 
she  could  hear  of  him  no  more,  her 
thoughts  began  to  work  in  her  mind. 
First,  for  that  she  had  lost  her  husband, 
and  for  that  the  loving  bond  of  that  rela- 
tion was  utterly  broken  between  them.  For 
you  know,  said  he  to  me,  nature  can  do 
no  less  but  entertain  the  living  with  many 
a  heavy  cogitation,  in  the  remembrance  of 
the  loss  of  loving  relations.  This,  there- 
fore, of  her  husband  did  cost 
her  many  a  tear.  But  this  was 
not  all ;  for  Christiana  did  also 
begin  to  consider  with  herself  whether  her 

unbecoming  behavior  towards  her  husband  was  not  one  cause  that  she  saw  him  no 

more,  and  that  in  such  sort  he  was  taken  away  from  her.    And  upon  this  came  into 


"HER  THOUGHTS  HKGAN  TO  WORK  IN  HKR  MIND.' 


Mark  this,  you 
tlxit  are  churls  to 
your  godly  rela- 
tions. 


'THEN  SAID  SHE  TO  HER  CHILDREN,  'SONS,  WE  ARE  ALL  UNDONE!'" 


2oS  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

her  mind,  by  swarms,  all  her  unkind,  unnatural,  and  ungodly  carnage  to  her  dear 
friend;  which  also  clogged  her  conscience  and. did  load  her  with  guilt.  She  was, 
moreover,  much  broken  with  recalling  to  remembrance  the  restless  groans,  brinish 
tears,  and  self-bemoanings  of  her  husband,  and  how  she  did  harden  her  heart  against 
all  his  entreaties  and  loving  persuasions  of  her  and  her  sons  to  go  with  him  ;  yea, 
there  was  not  anything  that  Christian  either  said  to  her  or  did  before  her  all  the 
while  that  his  burden  did  hang  on  his  back,  but  it  returned  upon  her  like  a  flash  of 
lightning  and  rent  the  caul  of  her  heart  in  sunder ;  especially  that  bitter  outcry  of 
his,  "  What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved  ?"  did  ring  in  her  ears  most  dolefully. 

Then  said  she  to  her  children,  "  Sons,  we  are  all  undone.  I  have  sinned  away 
your  father,  and  he  is  gone:  he  would  have  had  us  with  him,  but  I  would  not  go 
myself:  I  also  have  hindered  you  of  life."  With  that  the  boys  fell  into  tears  and 
cried  out  to  go  after  their  father.  "  Oh,"  said  Christiana,  "  that  it  had  been  our  lot  to 
go  with  him !  then  had  it  fared  well  with  us  beyond  what  it  is  like  to  do  now.  For 
though  I  formerly  foolishly  imagined,  concerning  the  troubles  of  your  father,  that 
they  proceeded  of  a  foolish  fancy  that  he  had,  or  for  that  he  was  overrun  with 
melancholy  humors,  yet  now  it  will  not  out  of  my  mind  but  that  they  sprang  from 
another  cause;  to  wit,  for  that  the  light  of  life  was  given  him,  James  1:23-25;' 
John  8:  12;  by  the  help  of  which,  as  I  perceive,  he  has  escaped  the  snares  of  death." 
Prov.  14 :  27.  Then  they  all  wept  again,  and  cried  out,  "  Oh,  woe  worth  the  day !" 

The  next  night  Christiana  had  a  dream ;  and  behold,  she  saw  as  if  a  broad  parch- 
ment was  opened  before  her,  in  which  were  recorded  the  sum  of  her          Christiana's 
ways ;  and  the  crimes,  as  she  thought,  looked  very  black  upon  her.    Then  ( 
she  cried  out  aloud  in  her  sleep,  "  Lord  have  mercy  upon  me  a  sinner!"  Luke  18  :  13  ; 
and  the  little  children  heard  her. 

After  this  she  thought  she  saw  two  very  ill-favored  ones  standing  by  her  bedside, 
and  saying,  "  What  shall  we  do  with  this  woman  ?  for  she  cries  out  for  Mark  mis :  this 

,  .  i      «          t  .  /.      <       4  n-  .is  the  quintessence 

mercy,  waking  and  sleeping :  if  she  be  suffered  to  go  on  as  she  begins,  oi  hen. 
we  shall  lose  her  as  we  have  lost  her  husband.     Wherefore  we  must,  by  one  way  or 
other,  seek  to  take  her  off  from  the  thoughts  of  what  shall  be  hereafter,  else  all  the 
world  cannot  help  but  she  will  become  a  pilgrim." 

Now  she  awoke  in  a  great  sweat,  also  a  trembling  was  upon  her ;  but  after  a  while 
she  fell  to  sleeping  again.  And  then  she  thought  she  saw  Christian,  IIelp  against  de. 
her  husband,  in  a  place  of  bliss  among  many  immortals,  with  a  harp  in  Pression- 
his  hand,  standing  and  playing  upon  it  before  One  that  sat  on  a  throne  with  a  rain- 
bow about  his  head.  She  saw  also  as  if  he  bowed  his  head  with  his  face  to  the  paved 
work  that  was  under  his  Prince's  feet,  saying,  "  I  heartily  thank  my  Lord  and  King 
for  bringing  me  into  this  place."  Then  shouted  a  company  of  them  that  stood  round 
about  and  harped  with  their  harps ;  but  no  man  living  could  tell  what  they  said  but 
Christian  and  his  companions. 

Next  morning  when  she  was  up,  had  prayed  to  God  and  talked  with  her  children 
a  while,  one  knocked  hard  at  the  door ;  to  whom  she  spoke  out,  saying,  "  If  thou 
comest  in  God's  name,  come  in."  So  he  said  "Amen,"  and  opened  the  door,  and 


A  HEA  VENL  Y  SUMMONS. 


209 


saluted  her  with,  "  Peace  be  to  this  house."  The  which  when  he  had  done,  he  said, 
"Christiana,  knowest  thou  wherefore  I  am  come?"  Then  she  blushed  and  trembled  ; 
also  her  heart  began  to  wax  warm  with  desires  to  know  from  whence  he  came  and 
what  was  his  errand  to  her.  So  he  said  unto  her,  "  My  name  is  Secret  ;  I  dwell  with 
convictions  those  that  are  on  high.  It  is  talked  of  where  I  dwell  as  if  thou  hadst  a 

seconded     bv    ti-  .  . 

dinars    or    cod's  desire  to  go  thither  :  also  there  is  a  report  that  thou  art  aware  of  the  evil 

readiness   to  par- 

d<jn.  thou    hast  formerly  done  to  thy  husband,  in  hardening   of  thy  heart 

against  his  way,  and  in  keeping  of  these  babes  in  their  ignorance.  Christiana,  the 
Merciful  One  hath  sent  me  to  tell  thee  that  he  is  a  God  ready  to  forgive,  and  that 
he  taketh  delight  to  multiply  the  pardon  of  offences.  He  also  would  have  thee  to 
know  that  he  inviteth  thee  to  come  into  his  presence,  to  his  table,  and  that  he  will 
feed  thee  with  the  fat  of  his  house  and  with  the  heritage  of  Jacob  thy  father. 

"  There  is  Christian,  thy  husband  that  was,  with  legions  more,  his  companions, 
ever  beholding  that  face  that  doth  minister  life  to  beholders,  and  they  will  all  be  glad 
when  they  shall  hear  the  sound  of  thy  feet  step  over  thy  Father's  threshold." 

Christiana  at  this  was  greatly  abashed 
in  herself,  and  bowed  her  head  to  the 
ground.  This  visitor  proceeded  and  said, 
"  Christiana,  here  is  also  a  letter  for  thee, 
which  I  have  brought  from  thy  husband's 
King."  So  she  took  it  and  opened  it,  but 
it  smelt  after  the  manner  of  the  best  per- 
fume. Song  1:3.  Also  it  was  written  in 
letters  of  gold.  The  contents  of  the  letter 
were  these:  that  "the  King  would  have 
her  do  as  did  Christian  her  husband  ;  for 
that  was  the  way  to  come  to  his  city  and 
to  dwell  in  his  presence  with  joy  for 
ever." 

At  this  the  good  woman   was  quite 
Christiana  quite  overcome  ;   so   she  cried   out 


visitor>  «       r>   W         you 

carry  me  and  my  children  with  you,  that 
we  may  also  go  and  worship  the  King?" 

Then  said  the  visitor,  "  Christiana,  the 
bitter  is  before  the  sweet.  Thou  must 
through  troubles,  as  did  he  that  went  be- 
fore thee,  enter  this  celestial  city.  Where- 
fore I  advise  thee  to  do  as  did  Christian, 
thy  husband  ;  go  to  the  wicket-gate  yon- 

der, over  the  plain,  for  that  stands  at  the  head  of  the  way  up  which  thou  must  go  ;  and 
I  wish  thee  all  good  speed.  Also  I  advise  that  thou  put  this  letter  in  thy  bosom,  that 
thou  read  therein  to  thyself  and  to  thy  children  until  you  have  got  it  by  heart  ;  for  i£ 


HERE    IS   ALSO    A    LETTER    FOR    THEE.' 


210  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

is  one  of  the  songs  that  thou  must  sing  while  thou  art  in  this  house  of  thy  pilgrimage, 
Psa.  1 19:  54;  also  this  thou  must  deliver  in  at  the  further  gate." 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  this  old  gentleman,  as  he  told  me  the  story,  did 
himself  seem  to  be  greatly  affected  therewith.  He  moreover  proceeded  Christiana  prays 
and  said,  So  Christiana  called  her  sons  together,  and  began  thus  to  ad-  tiieir  journey. 
dress  herself  unto  them  :  "  My  sons,  I  have,  as  you  may  perceive,  been  of  late  under 
much  exercise  in  my  soul  about  the  death  of  your  father :  not  for  that  I  doubt  at  all 
of  his  happiness,  for  I  am  satisfied  now  that  he  is  well.  I  have  also  been  much 
affected  with  the  thoughts  of  my  own  state  and  yours,  which  I  verily  believe  is  by 
nature  miserable.  My  carriage  also  to  your  father  in  his  distress  is  a  great  load  to  my 
conscience ;  for  I  hardened  both  my  heart  and  yours  against  him,  and  refused  to  go 
with  him  on  pilgrimage. 

"  The  thoughts  of  these  things  would  now  kill  me  outright,  but  for  a  dream 
which  I  had  last  night,  and  but  for  the  encouragement  which  this  stranger  has  given 
me  this  morning.  Come,  my  children,  let  us  pack  up  and  be  gone  to  the  gate  that 
leads  to  the  celestial  country,  that  we  may  see  your  father,  and  be  with  him  and  his 
companions  in  peace,  according  to  the  laws  of  that  land." 

Then  did  her  children  burst  into  tears  for  joy  that  the  heart  of  their  mother  was 
so  inclined.  So  their  visitor  bid  them  farewell ;  and  they  began  to  prepare  to  set  out 
for  their  journey. 

But  while  they  were  thus  about  to  be  gone,  two  of  the  women  that  Timorous  and 
were  Christiana's  neighbors  came  up  to  her  house  and  knocked  at  her  Christiana, 
door.  To  whom  she  said  as  before,  "  If  you  come  in  God's  name,  come  in."  At  this 
the  women  were  stunned ;  for  this  kind  of  language  they  used  not  to  hear  or  to  per- 
ceive to  drop  from  the  lips  of  Christiana.  Yet  they  came  in  :  but  behold,  they  found 
the  good  woman  preparing  to  be  gone  from  her  house. 

So  they  began  and  said,  "  Neighbor,  pray  what  is  your  meaning  by  this?" 

Christiana  answered  and  said  to  the  eldest  of  them,  whose  name  was  Mrs.  Timor- 
ous, "  I  am  preparing  for  a  journey." 

This  Timorous  was  daughter  to  him  that  met  Christian  upon  the  hill  of  Difficulty 
and  would  have  had  him  go  back  for  fear  of  the  lions. 

TIM.  For  what  journey,  I  pray  you? 

CHR.  Even  to  go  after  my  good  husband. 

And  with  that  she  fell  a-weeping. 

TIM.  I  hope  not  so,  good  neighbor ;  pray,  for  your  poor  children's  sake,  do  not  so 
unwomanly  cast  away  yourself. 

CHR.  Nay,  my  children  shall  go  with  me ;  not  one  of  them  is  willing  to  stay 
behind. 

TIM.  I  wonder  in  my  very  heart  what  or  who  has  brought  you  into  this  mind. 

CHR.  O  neighbor,  knew  you  but  as  much  as  I  do,  I  doubt  not  but  that  you  would 
go  along  with  me. 

TIM.  Prithee,  what  new  knowledge  hast  thou  got  that  so  worketh  off  thy  mind 
from  thy  friends,  and  that  tempteth  thee  to  go  nobody  knows  where  ? 


MRS.  TIMOROUS  AND  MERCY. 


211 


Then  Christiana  replied,  "  I  have  been  sorely  afflicted  since  my  husband's  de- 
parture from  me  ;  but  specially  since  he  went  over  the  river.  But  that  which  troubleth 
me  most  is  my  churlish  carriage  to  him  when  he  was  under  his  distress.  Besides,  I 
am  now  as  he  was  then  ;  nothing  will  serve  me  but  going  on  pilgrimage.  I  was 
dreaming  last  night  that  I  saw  him.  Oh,  that  my  soul  was  with  him  !  He  dwelleth 
in  the  presence  of  the  King  of  the  country  ;  he  sits  and  eats  with  him  at  his  table  ;  he 
is  become  a  companion  of  immortals,  and  has  a  house  now  given  him  to  dwell  in 
to  which  the  best  palace  on  earth,  if  compared,  seems  to  me  but  a  dunghill.  2  Cor. 
5:1-4.  The  Prince  of  the  place  has  also  sent  for  me,  with  promise  of  entertainment, 
if  I  shall  come  to  him  ;  his  messenger  was  here  even  now  and  has  brought  me  a  letter 
which  invites  me  to  come."  And  with  that  she  plucked  out  her  letter  and  read  it,  and 
said  to  them,  "  What  now  will  you  say  to  this  ?" 

TIM.  Oh,  the  madness  that  has  possessed  thee  and  thy  husband,  to  run  yourselves 
upon  such  difficulties  !  You  have  heard,  I  am  sure,  what  your  husband  did  meet  with, 
even  in  a  manner  at  the  first  step  that  he  took  on  his  way,  as  our  neighbor  Obstinate 
can  yet  testify,  for  he  went  along  with  him  ;  yea,  and  Pliable  too,  until  they,  like  wise 
The  reasonings  meri,  were  afraid  to  go  any  further.  We  also  heard,  over  and  above,  how 
of  tne  flesu.  -^Q  mef.  w{{h  the  lions,  Apollyon,  the  Shadow  of  Death,  and  many  other 
things.  Nor  is  the  danger  that  he  met  with  in  Vanity  Fair  to  be  forgotten  by  thee. 
For  if  he,  though  a  man,  was  so  hard  put  up  to  it,  what  canst  thou,  being  but  a  poor 
woman,  do  ?  Consider  also  that  these  four  sweet  babes  are  thy  children,  thy  flesh 
and  thy  bones.  Wherefore,  though  thou  shouldest  be  so  rash  as  to  cast  away  thyself, 
yet,  for  the  sake  of  the  fruit  of  thy  body,  keep  thou  at  home. 

But  Christiana  said  unto  her,  "  Tempt  me  not,  my  neighbor.     I  have  now  a  price 

put  into  my  hands  to  get  gain,  and  I  should  be  a  fool  of  the  greatest  size  if  I  should 

A  pertinent  re-  have  no  heart  to  strike  in  with  the  opportunity.    And  for  that  you  tell  me 

ply  to  fleshly  rea-       r      -,-,   ,,  -,  -,  -,   •   -,     T  v,  ....     .      ^  ' 

of  all  these  troubles  which  I  am  like  to  meet  with  in  the  way,  they  are  so 


Mercy's  bowels 
yearn   over   Chris- 


far  from  being  to  me  a  discouragement  that  they  show  I  am  in  the  right.  The  bitter 
must_come  -before  the  sweet,  and  that  also  will  make  the  sweet,  the  sweeter.  Where- 
foreTsince  you  camelidTTcTmy  house  in  God's  name,  as  I  said,  I  pray  you  to  be  gone, 
and  not  to  disquiet  me  further." 

Then  Timorous  reviled  her,  and  said  to  her  fellow,  "  Come,  neighbor  Mercy,  let 
us  leave  her  in  her  own  hands,  since  she  scorns  our  counsel  and  company." 

But  Mercy  was  at  a  stand  and  could  not  so  readily  comply  with  her 

. 

neighbor  ;  and  that  for  a  twofold  reason.  First,  her  bowels  yearned  over 
Christiana.  So  she  said  within  herself,  "  If  my  neighbor  will  needs  be  gone,  I  will  go 
a  little  way  with  her  and  help  her."  Second,  her  bowels  yearned  over  her  own  soul; 
for  what  Christiana  had  said  had  taken  some  hold  upon  her  mind.  Wherefore  she 
said  within  herself  again,  "  I  will  yet  have  more  talk  with  this  Christiana  ;  and  if  I 
find  truth  and  life  in  what  she  shall  say,  I  myself  with  my  heart  shall  also  go  with 
her."  Wherefore  Mercy  began  thus  to  reply  to  her  neighbor  Timorous  : 

MER.  Neighbor,  I  did  indeed  come  with  you  to  see  Christiana  this  morning  ;  and 
since  she  is,  as  you  see,  taking  her  last  farewell  of  the  country,  I  think  to  walk  this 


212 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


sunshiny  morning  a  little  with  her,  to 
help  her  on  her  way. 

But  she  told  her  not  of  her  second 
reason,  but  kept  it  to  herself. 

TIM.  Well,  I  see  you  have  a  mind  to 
go  a-fooling  too ;  but  take  heed  in  time, 
and  be  wise.  While  we  are  out  of  danger, 
we  are  out ;  but  when  we  are  in,  we  are  in. 

So  Mrs.  Timorous  returned  to  her 
house,  and  Christiana  betook  herself  to 
her  journey.  But  when  Timorous  was  got 
home  to  her  house,  she  sends  for  some  of 
her  neighbors,  to  wit,  Mrs.  Bat's-eyes,  Mrs. 
Inconsiderate,  Mrs.  Light-mind,  and  Mrs. 

Know-nothing.  So  when  they        Timorous  ac- 
quaints her  friends 
were  come  to  her  house,  she  what   the    good 

Christiana  intends 

falls  to  telling  of  the  story  of  to  ao. 
Christiana,  and  of  her  intended  journey. 
And  thus  she  began  her  tale : 

TIM.  Neighbors,  having  had  little  to 
do  this  morning,  I  went  to  give  Christiana 
a  visit ;  and  when  I  came  at  the  door  I 
knocked,  as  you  know  it  is  our  custom ;  and 
she  answered,  "  If  you  come  in  God's  name,  come  in."  So  in  I  went,  thinking  all  was 
well ;  but  when  I  came  in  I  found  her  preparing  herself  to  depart  the  town,  she  and 
also  her  children.  So  I  asked  her  what  was  her  meaning  by  that.  And  she  told  me, 
in  short,  that  she  was  now  of  a  mind  to  go  on  pilgrimage,  as  did  her  husband.  She 
told  me  also  of  a  dream  that  she  had,  and  how  the  King  of  the  country  where  her 
husband  was  had  sent  her  an  inviting  letter  to  come  thither. 

Then  said  Mrs.  Know-nothing,  "  And  what !  do  you  think  she  will       Mrs  Know. 

gO  p"  nothing. 

TIM.  Ay,  go  she  will,  whatever  comes  on't;  and  methinks  1  know  it  by  this:  for 
that  which  was  my  great  argument  to  persuade  Jier  to  stay  at  home,  to  wit,  the 
troubles  she  was  like  to  meet  with  on  the  way,  is  one  great  argument  with  her  to  put 
her  forward  on  her  journey.  For  she  told  me  in  so  many  words,  "  The  bitter  goes 
before  the  sweet ;  yea,  and  forasmuch  as  it  doth,  it  makes  the  sweet  the  sweeter." 

"  Oh,  this  blind  and  foolish  woman  !"  said  Mrs.  Bat's-eyes ;  "  and  will    Mrs.  Bat's-eyes. 
she  not  take  warning  by  her  husband's  afflictions  ?     For  my  part,  I  see,  if  he  were 
here  again,  he  would  rest  himself  content  in  a  whole  skin,  and  never  run  so  many 
hazards  for  nothing." 

Mrs.  Inconsiderate  also  replied,  saying,  "Away  with  such  fantastical  Mrs.  inconsiderate 
fools  from  the  town ;  a  good  riddance,  for  my  part,  I  say,  of  her.  Should  she  stay 
where  she  dwells  and  retain  this  her  mind,  who  could  live  quietly  by  her  ?  for  she 


"j  SEE  YOU  HAVE  A    MIND  TO   GO   A-FOOLING  TOO." 


214  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

will  either  be  dumpish  or  unneighborly,  or  talk  of  such  matters  as  no  wise  body  can 
abide.  Wherefore,  for  my  part,  I  shall  never  be  sorry  for  her  departure ;  let  her  go, 
and  let  better  come  in  her  room ;  it  was  never  a  good  world  since  these  whimsical 
fools  dwelt  in  it." 

Then  Mrs.  Light-mind  added  as  followeth :  "  Come,  put  this  kind  of  Mrs.  Light-mind, 
talk  away.  I  was  yesterday  at  Madam  Wanton's,  where  we  were  as  merry  as  the 
maids.  For  who  do  you  think  should  be  there  but  I  and  Mrs.  Love-the-flesh  and  three 
or  four  more,  with  Mrs.  Lec-hery,  Mrs.  Filth,  and  some  others.  So  there  we  had 
music  and  dancing  and  what  else  was  meet  to  fill  up  the  pleasure.  And  I  dare  say, 
my  lady  herself  is  an  admirable  well-bred  gentlewoman,  and  Mr.  Lechery  is  as  pretty 
a  fellow. 


MERCY  JOINS  THE  BAND.  215 


THE  .SECOND  STAGE. 

BY  this  time  Christiana  was  got  on  her  way,  and  Mercy  went  along  with  her ;  so 
Discourse  be-  as  they  went,  her  children  being  there  also,  Christiana   beean  to  dis- 

tween  Mercy  and  »_*•»*  »         •  -i    <^i      •      •  -r 

gooa  Christiana,  course.  "  And,  Mercy,  said  Christiana,  "  I  take  this  as  an  unexpected 
favor,  that  thou  shouldest  set  forth  out  of  doors  with  me  to  accompany  me  a  little  in 
the  way." 

Then  said  young  Mercy  (for  she  was  but  young), "  If  I  thought  it  would  be  to 
purpose  to  go  with  you,  I  would  never  go  near  the  town  any  more." 

"  Well,  Mercy,"  said  Christiana,  "  cast  in  thy  lot  with  me ;  I  well  know  what  will  be 
the  end  of  our  pilgrimage ;  my  husband  is  where  he  would  not  but  be  for  all  the  gold 
in  the  Spanish  mines.  Nor  shalt  thou  be  rejected,  though  thou  goest  but  upon  my 
invitation.  The  King,  who  hath  sent  for  me  and  my  children,  is  one  that  delighteth 
in  mercy.  Besides,  if  thou  wilt,  I  will  hire  thee,  and  thou  should  go  along  with  me  as 
my  servant.  Yet  we  will  have  all  things  in  common  between  thee  and  me ;  only  go 
along  with  me." 

Mercy  doubts  or  MER.  But  how  shall  I  be  ascertained  that  I  also  should  be  enter- 
acceptance.  tained  ?  Had  I  this  hope  but  from  one  that  can  tell,  I  would  make  no 
stick  at  all,  but  would  go,  being  helped  by  Him  that  can  help,  though  the  way  was 
never  so  tedious. 

Christiana  aiiures         CHR.  Well,  loving  Mercy,  I  will  tell  thee  what  thou  shalt  .do.     Go 

her    to    the    gate,        ...  .  n1  T-H/-I-  •    -    * 

which  is  Christ,  and  with  me  to  the  wicket-gate,  and  there  1  will  further  inquire  for  thee  ;  and 

promises    there   to 

inquire  for  her.  if  there  thou  shalt  not  meet  with  encouragement,  I  will  be  content  that 
thou  return  to  thy  place.  I  will  also  pay  thee  for  thy  kindness  which  thou  showest 
to  me  and  my  children  in  accompanying  of  us  in  our  way  as  thou  dost. 

MER.  Then  will  I  go  thither,  and  will  take  what  shall  follow ;  and  the  Lord 
grant  that  my  lot  may  there  fall  even  as  the  King  of  heaven  shall  have  his  heart 
upon  me. 

Christiana  giad  Christiana  then  was  glad  at  heart,  not  only  that  she  had  a  compan- 
of  Mercy-s  company.  jon>  ^ut  also  for  that  she  had  prevailed  with  this  poor  maid  to  fall  in 
love  with  her  own  salvation.  So  they  went  on  together  and  Mercy  began  to  weep. 
Then  said  Christiana,  "  Wherefore  weepeth  my  sister  so?" 

"  Alas,"  said  Mercy,  "  who  can  but  lament  that  shall  but  rightly  consider  what  a 
state  and  condition  my  poor  relations  are  in  that  yet  remain  in  our  sinful  town  ?  And 
that  which  makes  my  grief  the  more  heavy  is,  because  they  have  no  instructor  nor 
any  to  tell  them  what  is  to  come." 

CHR.  Pity  becomes  pilgrims ;   and  thou  dost  weep  for  thy  friends  as  my  good 

Christian's  prayers  Christian  did  for  me  when  he  left  me :  he  mourned  for  that  I  would  not 

hisreiations0aefterfhe  heed  nor  regard  him ;  but  his  Lord  and  ours  did  gather  up  his  tears  and 

put  them  into  his  bottle ;  and  now  both  I  and  thou  and  these  my  sweet 

babes  are  reaping  the  fruit  and  benefit  of  them.     I  hope,  Mercy,  that  these  tears  of 


2l6 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


thine  will  not  be  lost  ;  for  the  truth  hath  said  that  "  they  that  sow  in  tears  shall  reap 
in  joy."     And  "  he  that  goeth  forth  and  weepeth,  bearing  precious  seed,  shall  doubt- 
less come  again  with  rejoicing,  bringing  his  sheaves  with  him."     Psa.  126:  5,  6. 
Then  said  Mercy, 

"Let  the  Most  Blessed  be  my  guide, 

If  't  be  his  blessed  will, 
Unto  his  gate,  into  his  fold, 
Up  to  his  holy  hill. 

"And  let  him  never  suffer  me 

To  swerve  or  turn  aside 
From  his  free  grace  and  holy  ways, 
What  e'er  shall  me  betide. 

"And  let  him  gather  them  of  mine 

That  I  have  left  behind  ; 
Lord,  make  them  pray  they  may  be  thine 
With  all  their  heart  and  mind." 

Now  my  old  friend  proceeded  and  said,  But  when  Christiana  came  to  the  Slough 
of  Despond,  she  began  to  be  at  a  stand.     "  For,"  said  she,  "  this  is  the  place  in  which 

my  dear  husband  had  liked  to  have  been 
smothered  with  mud."  She  perceived  also 
that  notwithstanding  the  command  of  the 
King  to  make  this  place  for  pilgrims 
good,  yet  it  was  rather  worse  than  for- 
merly. So  I  asked  if  that  was  true. 

"Yes,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "too 
true;  for  many  there  be  that  pretend  to 
be  the  King's  laborers,  and 

tVmt    QSV   fhpv 
inai  say  uiey 

ing  the  King's  highways,  who  of  llfe- 
bring  dirt  and  dung  instead  of  stones,  and 
so  mar  instead  of  mending." 

Here  Christiana  therefore,  with  her 
boys,  did  make  a  stand. 

"  But,"  said  Mercy,  "  come,  let  us  ven- 

ture:   Onlv    let    US    be   Wary."         Mercy  the  bold- 

J         eat  at  the  Slough 

Then    they    looked    well    to  or  Despond. 
their  steps,  and  made  a  shift  to  get  stag- 
gering over. 

Yet  Christiana  had  like  to  have  been 
in,  and  that  not  once  or  twice.  Now  they 
had  no  sooner  got  over  but  they  thought 
they  heard  words  that  said  unto  them, 

"  Blessed  is  she  that  believeth  ;  for  there  shall  be  a  performance  of  those  things  which 

were  told  her  from  the  Lord."     Luke  1  :45« 


Thelrowncar. 

for    mend-    nal  conclusions  in- 
iui    menu-  gtea(I  of  the  word 


"COME,  LET  us  VENTURE;  ONLY  LET  us  uis  WARY." 


AT  THE  WICKET-GATE.  217 

Then  they  went  on  again ;  and  said  Mercy  to  Christiana,  "  Had  I  as  good  ground 
to  hope  for  a  loving  reception  at  the  wicket-gate  as  you,  I  think  no  Slough  of  Despond 
would  discourage  me." 

"  Well,"  said  the  other,  "  you  know  your  sore  and  I  know  mine  ;  and,  good  friend, 
we  shall  all  have  enough  evil  before  we  come  to  our  journey's  end.  For  can  it  be 
imagined  that  the  people  who  design  to  attain  such  excellent  glories  as  we  do,  and 
who  are  so  envied  that  happiness  as  we  are,  but  that  we  shall  meet  with  what  fears 
and  snares,  with  what  troubles  and  afflictions,  they  can  possibly  assault  us  with  that 
hate  us?" 

And  now  Mr.  Sagacity  left  me  to  dream  out  my  dream  by  myself.  Wherefore, 
iTiver  should  be  methought  I  saw  Christiana  and  Mercy  and  the  boys  go  all  of  them  up  to 
amuear.'nsweifas  the  gate 5  to  which,  when  they  were  come,  they  betook  themselves  to  a 
in  faith  and  hope.  S'^OT^  debate  about  how  they  must  manage  their  calling  at  the  gate,  and 
what  should  be  said  unto  him  that  did  open  to  them  ;  so  it  was  concluded,  since  Chris- 
tiana was  the  eldest,  that  she  should  knock  for  entrance,  and  that  she  should  speak,  to 
him  that  did  open,  for  the  rest.  So  Christiana  began  to  knock,  and  as  her  poor  hus- 
band did,  she  knocked  and  knocked  again.  But  instead  of  any  that  answered,  they 
all  thought  that  they  heard  as  if  a  dog  came  barking  upon  them ;  a  dog,  and  a  great 
one  too ;  and  this  made  the  women  and  children  afraid.  Nor  durst  they  for  a  while 
Christiana  and  to  knock  any  more,  for  fear  the  mastiff  should  fly  upon  them.  Now, 
withy  doubt"rbiii  therefore,  they  were  greatly  tumbled  up  and  down  in  their  minds,  and 
knew  not  what  to  do.  Knock  they  durst  not,  for  fear  of  the  dog ;  go  back 
they  durst  not,  for  fear  the  keeper  of  that  gate  should  espy  them  as  they  so  went  and 
should  be  offended  with  them.  At  last  they  thought  of  knocking  again,  and  knocked 
more  vehemently  than  they  did  at  first. 

Then  said  the  keeper  of  the  gate,  "  Who  is  there?"  So  the  dog  left  off  to  bark, 
and  he  opened  unto  them. 

Then  Christiana  made  low  obeisance,  and  said,  "  Let  not  our  Lord  be  offended 
with  his  handmaidens  for  that  we  have  knocked  at  his  princely  gate." 

Then  said  the  keeper,  "  Whence  come  ye  ?  And  what  is  it  that  you  would 
have?" 

Christiana  answered,  "  We  are  come  from  whence  Christian  did  come,  and  upon 
the  same  errand  as  he  ;  to  wit,  to  be,  if  it  shall  please  you,  graciously  admitted  by  this 
gate  into  the  way  that  leads  into  the  celestial  city.  And  I  answer,  my  Lord,  in  the 
next  place  that  I  am  Christiana,  once  the  wife  of  Christian,  that  now  is  gotten 
above." 

With  that  the  keeper  of  the  gate  did  marvel,  saying,  "  What,  is  she  now  become 
a  pilgrim  that  but  a  while  ago  abhorred  that  life  ?" 

Then  she  bowed  her  head  and  said,  "Yea;  and  so  are  these  my  sweet  babes 
also." 

HOW  christi-  Then  he  took  her  by  the  hand  and  led  her  in,  and  said  also,  "  Suffer 

ana  is  entertained  .  ,       -          ,         1  ..  ,-r,,  . 

at  the  gate.  little  children  to  come  unto  me  ;    and  with  that  he  shut  up  the  gate.     1  his 

done,  he  called  to  a  trumpeter  that  was  above,  over  the  gate,  to  entertain  Christiana 

28 


THE  KING'S  TRUMPETER. 


MERCY  ALSO  IS  WELCOMED.  219 

with  shouting  and  the  sound  of  trumpet,  for  joy.  So  he  obeyed,  and  sounded  and 
filled  the  air  with  his  melodious  notes. 

Now  all  this  while  poor  Mercy  did  stand  without,  trembling  and  erying  for  fear 
that  she  was  rejected.  But  when  Christiana  had  got  admittance  for  herself  and  her 
boys,  then  she  began  to  make  intercession  for  Mercy. 

Christiana's  And  Christiana  said,  "  My  Lord,  I  have  a  companion  of  mine  that 

friend" Mercy.  *' r  stands  yet  without,  that  has  come  hither  upon  the  same  account  as 
myself :  one  that  is  much  dejected  in  her  mind,  for  that  she  comes,  as  she  thinks, 
without  sending  for;  whereas  I  was  sent  for  by  my  husband's  King  to  come." 

Now  Mercy  began  to  be  very  impatient,  and  each  minute  was  as  long  to  her  as 

Delays  make  the  an  hour ;  wherefore  she  prevented  Christiana  from  a  fuller  interceding 

more  icu-vent.         for  her  by  knocking  at  the  gate  herself.     And  she  knocked  then  so  loud 

that  she  made   Christiana   to  start.     Then   said  the  keeper  of  the   gate,  "  Who   is 

there?" 

And  Christiana  said,  "  It  is  my  friend." 

So  he  opened  the  gate  and  looked  out,  but  Mercy  was  fallen  down  without  in  a 
swoon  ;  for  she  fainted  and  was  afraid  that  no  gate  should  be  opened  to  her. 

Then  he  took  her  by  the  hand  and  said,  "  Damsel,  I  bid  thee  arise." 

"  Oh,  sir,"  said  she,  "  I  am  faint ;  there  is  scarce  life  left  in  me."  But  he  answered, 
that  one  once  said,  "  When  my  soul  fainted  within  me  I  remembered  the  Lord ;  and 
my  prayer  came  unto  thee,  into  thy  holy  temple.  Jonah  2 :  7.  Fear  not,  but  stand 
upon  thy  feet  and  tell  me  wherefore  thou  art  come." 

MER.  I  am  come  for  that  unto  which  I  was  never  invited,  as  my  friend  Christiana 
was.  Hers  was  from  the  King,  and  mine  was  but  from  her.  Wherefore  I  fear  I 
presume. 

KEEP.  Did  she  desire  thee  to  come  with  her  to  this  place  ? 

MER.  Yes ;  and  as  my  Lord  sees,  I  am  come.  And  if  there  is  any  grace  and 
forgiveness  of  sins  to  spare,  I  beseech  that  thy  poor  handmaid  may  be  a  partaker 
thereof. 

Then  he  took  her  again  by  the  hand  and  led  her  gently  in,  and  said,  "  I  pray  for 
all  them  that  believe  on  me,  by  what  means  soever  they  come  unto  me."  Then  said 
he  to  those  that  stood  by,  "  Fetch  something  and  give  it  to  Mercy  to  smell  on,  thereby 
to  stay  her  faintings ;"  so  they  fetched  her  a  bundle  of  myrrh,  and  a  while  after  she 
was  revived. 

And  now  were  Christiana  and  her  boys  and  Mercy  received  of  the  Lord  at  the 
head  of  the  way  and  spoken  kindly  unto  by  him.  Then  said  they  yet  further  unto 
him,  "  We  are  sorry  for  our  sins,  and  beg  of  our  Lord  his  pardon  and  further  informa- 
tion what  we  must  do." 

"I  grant  pardon,"  said  he,  "by  word  and  deed;  by  word  in  the  promise  of  for- 
giveness, by  deed  in  the  way  I  obtained  it.  Take  the  first  from  my  lips  with  a  kiss, 
and  the  other  as  it  shall  be  revealed."  Song  1:2;  John  20 :  20. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  he  spoke  many  good  words  unto  them,  whereby 
they  were  greatly  gladdened.  He  also  had  them  up  to  the  top  of  the  gate,  and 


'MERCY  WAS  FALLEN  DOWN  WITHOUT  IN  A  SWOON. 


IMPORTUNA  TE  PR  A  YER.  221 

Christ  crucified  showed   them   by  what   deed  they  were   saved;  and  told   them   withal 
that  that  sight  they  would  have  again  as  they  went  along  in  the  way,  to 
their  comfort. 


Talk  between  So  ne  ^e^  them  a  while  in  a  summer  parlor  below,  where  they 

entered  into  talk  by  themselves  ;  and  thus  Christiana  began  :  "  Oh,  how 
glad  am  I  that  we  are  got  in  hither!" 

MER.  So  you  well  may  ;  but  I,  of  all,  have  cause  to  leap  for  joy. 

CIIR.  I  thought  one  time  as  I  stood  at  the  gate,  because  I  had  knocked  and  none 
did  answer,  that  all  our  labor  had  been  lost,  especially  when  that  ugly  cur  made  such 
a  heavy  barking  against  us. 

MER.  But  my  worst  fear  was  after  I  saw  that  you  was  taken  into  his  favor  and 
that  I  was  left  behind.  Now,  thought  I,  it  is  fulfilled  which  is  written,  "  Two  women 
shall  be  grinding  at  the  mill  ;  the  one  shall  be  taken,  and  the  other  left."  Matt.  24:41. 
I  had  much  ado  to  forbear  crying  out,  Undone  !  And  afraid  I  was  to  knock  any 
more  ;  but  when  I  looked  up  to  what  was  written  over  the  gate  I  took  courage.  I  also 
thought  that  I  must  either  knock  again  or  die  ;  so  I  knocked,  but  I  cannot  tell  how, 
for  my  spirit  now  struggled  between  life  and  death. 

Christiana  CUR.  ^an  you  not  tell  h°w  you  knocked  ?  I  am  sure  your  knocks 
pinion  i''ni.vs''(i'ei-  were  so  earnest  that  the  very  sound  of  them  made  me  start  ;  I  thought 
I  never  heard  such  knocking  in  all  my  life  ;  I  thought  you  would  come 
in  by  a  violent  hand  or  take  the  kingdom  by  storm.  Matt.  11:12. 

MER.  Alas,  to  be  in  my  case,  who  that  so  was  could  but  have  done  so  ?  You  saw 
that  the  door  was  shut  upon  me,  and  that  there  was  a  most  cruel  dog  thereabout. 
Who,  I  say,  that  was  so  faint-hearted  as  I,  would  not  have  knocked  with  all  their 
might  ?  But  pray,  what  said  my  Lord  to  my  rudeness  ?  Was  he  not  angry  with  me  ? 

CHR.  When   he   heard    your   lumbering   noise,  he  gave   a  wonderful   innocent 

smile  ;  I  believe  what  you  did  pleased  him  well,  for  he  showed  no  sign  to  the  con- 

ir  the  soul  at  trary.     But  I  marvel  in  my  heart  why  he  keeps  such  a  doer:  had  I  known 

first  did  know  all 

it  should  meet  witu  that  before,  I  should  not  have  had  heart  enough  to  have  ventured  mv- 

in   its  journey  to  .  J 

heaven,  it  would  self  in  this  manner.     But  now  we  are  in,  we  are  in,  and  I  am  eflad  with 

hardly    ever    set 

°ut-  all  my  heart. 

MER.  I  will  ask,  if  you  please,  next  time  he  comes  down,  why  he  keeps  such  a 
filthy  cur  in  his  yard  ;  I  hope  he  will  not  take  it  amiss. 

"Do  so,"  said  the  children,  "and  persuade  him  to  hang  him;  for  we  are  afraid 
he  will  bite  us  when  we  go  hence." 

So  at  last  he  came  down  to  them  again,  and  Mercy  fell  to  the  ground  on  her  face 
before  him  and  worshipped,  and  said,  "  Let  my  Lord  accept  the  sacrifice  of  praise 
which  I  now  offer  unto  him  with  the  calves  of  my  lips." 

So  he  said  unto  her,  "  Peace  be  to  thee  ;  stand  up." 

But  she  continued  upon  her  face  and  said,  "  Righteous  art  thou,  O  Lord,  when  I 
Mercy  expos-  plead  with  thee  ;  vet  let  me  talk  with  thee  of  thy  judgments.  Ter.  12:1. 

tulates   about  the    ^  J    J  J 

dog.  Wherefore  dost  thou  keep  so  cruel  a  dog  in  thy  yard,  at  the  sight  of 

which  such  women  and  children  as  we  are  ready  to  fly  from  thy  gate  for  fear?" 


222  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

He  answered  and  said,  "That  dog  has  another  owner;  he  also  is 
kept  close  in  another  man's  ground,  only  my  pilgrims  hear  his  barking.  He  belongs 
to  the  castle  which  you  see  there  at  a  distance,  but  can  come  up  to  the  walls  of  this 
place.  He  has  frighted  many  an  honest  pilgrim  from  worse  to  better  by  the  great 
voice  of  his  roaring.  Indeed,  he  that  owneth  him  doth  not  keep  him  out  of  any  good 
will  to  me  or  mine,  but  with  intent  to  keep  the  pilgrims  from  coming  to  me,  and  that 
they  may  be  afraid  to  come  and  knock  at  this  gate  for  entrance.  Sometimes  also  he 
has  broken  out,  and  has  worried  some  that  I  loved ;  but  I  take  all  at  present  patiently 
I  also  give  my  pilgrims  timely  help,  so  that  they  are  not  delivered  to  his  power  to 
do  with  them  what  his  doggish  nature  would  prompt  him  to.  But  what,  my  pur- 
chased one,  I  trow  hadst  thou  known  never  so  much  beforehand,  thou  wouldest  not 
have  been  afraid  of  a  dog.  The  beggars  that  go  from  door  to  door  will,  A  check  to  ttio 

carnal  fear  of  the 

rather  than  lose  a  supposed  alms,  run  the  hazard  of  the  bawling,  barking,  pilgrims. 
and  biting  too  of  a  dog ;  and  shall  a  dog,  a  dog  in  another  man's  yard,  a  dog  whose 
barking  I  turn  to  the  profit  of  pilgrims,  keep  any  from  coming  to  me?     I  deliver 
them  from  the  lions,  and  my  darling  from  the  power  of  the  dog."     Psa.  22 :  21,  22. 

Then  said  Mercy,  "  I  confess  my  ignorance ;  I  spoke  what  I  under-  Christjans  wlien 
stood  not ;  I  acknowledge  that  thou  doest  all  things  well."  jSLd^tSeirt^ 

Then  Christiana  began  to  talk  of  their  journey  and  to  inquire  after  tlom  of  tlieir  ''or(1- 
the  way.  So  he  fed  them  and  washed  their  feet,  and  set  them  in  the  way  of  his  steps 
according  as  he  had  dealt  with  her  husband  before. 


EA  TING  FORBIDDEN  FRUIT. 


223 


THE  THIRD  STAGE. 

So  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  they  walked  on  their  way  and  had  the  weather  very 
comfortable  to  them. 

Then  Christiana  began  to  sing,  saying, 

"  Blessed  be  the  day  that  I  began 

A  pilgrim  for  to  be, 
And  blessed  also  be  the  Man 
That  thereto  move'd  me. 

"  'T  is  true,  'twas  long  ere  I  began 

To  seek  to  live  for  ever ; 
But  now  I  run  fast  as  I  can  : 
'Tis  better  late  than  never. 

"Our  tears  to  joy,  our  fears  to  faith, 

Are  turned,  as  we  see ; 
Thus  our  beginning,  as  one  saith, 
Shows  what  our  end  will  be." 

Now  there  was  on  the  other  side 
of  the  wall  that  fenced  in  the  way  up 
The  devirs  garden,  which  Christiana  and  her 
companions  were  to  go,  a  garden,  and 
that  garden  belonged  to  him  whose  was 
that  barking  dog  of  whom  mention  was 
made  before.  And  some  of  the  fruit- 
trees  that  grew  in  that  garden  shot  their 
branches  over  the  wall ;  and  being  mel- 
low, they  that  found  them  did  gather 
them  up  and  eat  of  them  to  their  hurt. 
So  Christiana's  boys,  as  boys  are  apt  to 

The  children  eat  do,  being  pleased  with  the  trees,  and  with  the  fruit  that  hung  thereon, 
did  pluck  them  and  began  to  eat.     Their  mother  did  also  chide  them  for 
so  doing,  but  still  the  boys  went  on. 

"Well,"  said  she,  "my  sons,  you  transgress,  for  that  fruit  is  none  of  ours;"  but 
she  did  not  know  that  it  belonged  to  the  enemy.  I  '11  warrant  you  if  she  had  she 
would  have  been  ready  to  die  for  fear.  But  that  passed,  and  they  went  on  their 
way. 

Now  by  that  they  were  gone  about  two  bow-shots  from  the  place  that  led  them 


'AND  BLESSED  ALSO  BE  THK  MAN 
THAT  THKRKTO  MOVI?D  ME." 


Of 

fruit. 


'  SO  CHRISTIANA'S   BOYS   DID  PLUCK  THEM  AND  BEGAN  TO  EAT." 


SUCCOR  IN  TIME  OF  NEED. 


22$ 


into  the  way,  they  espied  two  very  ill- 
favored  ones  coming-  down  apace  to  meet 
them.  With  that  Christiana  and  Mercy 
her  friend  covered  themselves  with  their 
TWO  iii-favored  veils,  and  so  kept  on  their 

ones  assault  Chris-     .  '• 

tiaua  ami  Mercy,  journey ;  the  children  also 
went  on  before ;  so  that  at  last  they  met 
together.  Then  they  that  came  down  to 
meet  them  came  just  up  to  the  women  as  if 
they  would  embrace  them  ;  but  Christiana 
said,  "  Stand  back,  or  go  peaceably  as  you 
should."  Yet  these  two,  as  men  that  are 
deaf,  regarded  not  Christiana's  words,  but 
began  to  lay  hands  upon  them.  At  that 
Christiana,  waxing  very  wroth,  spurned  at 
them  with  her  feet.  Mercy  also,  as  well 
as  she  could,  did  what  she  could  to  shift 
them.  Christiana  again  said  to  them, 
"  Stand  back  and  be  gone,  for  we  have  no 
money  to  lose,  being  pilgrims,  as  you  see, 
and  such  too  as  live  upon  the  charity  of 
our  friends." 

Then  said  one  of  the  two  men,  "  We 
make  no  assault  upon  you  for  money,  but  are  come  out  to  tell  you  that  if  you  will 
but  grant  one  small  request  which  we  shall  ask,  we  will  make  women  of  you  for 
ever." 

Now  Christiana,  imagining  what  they  should  mean,  made  answer  again,  "We 
will  neither  hear  nor  regard  nor  yield  to  what  you  shall  ask.  We  are  in  haste, 
and  cannot  stay ;  our  business  is  a  business  of  life  and  death."  So  again  she  and 
her  companion  made  a  fresh  essay  to  go  past  them ;  but  they  letted  them  in 
their  way. 

And  they  said,  "  We  intend  no  hurt  to  your  lives ;  it  is  another  thing  we  would 
have." 

"Ay,"  quoth  Christiana,  "you  would  have  us  body  and  soul,  for  I  know  it  is  for 
that  you  are  come ;  but  we  will  die  rather  upon  the  spot  than  to  suffer  ourselves  to  be 
They  cry  out.  brought  into  such  snares  as  shall  hazard  our  well-being  hereafter."  And 
with  that  they  both  shrieked  out,  and  cried,  "  Murder,  murder !"  and  so  put  them- 
selves under  those  laws  that  are  provided  for  the  protection  of  women.  '  Deut. 
22  :  25-27.  But  the  men  still  made  their  approach  upon  them,  with  design  to  prevail 
against  them.  They  therefore  cried  out  again. 

Now  they  being,  as  I  said,  not  far  from  the  gate  in  at  which  they  came,  their 
voice  was  heard  from  whence  they  were,  thither.     Wherefore  some  of  the  house  came 
The  Reliever  comes,  out,  and  knowing  that  it  was  Christiana's  tongue,  they  made  haste  to  her 
29 


TWO  ILL-FA  VORKD   ONKS. 


226  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

relief.     But  by  that  they  were  got  within  sight  of  them,  the  women  were  in  a  very 
great  scuffle ;  and  the  children  also  stood  crying  by. 

Then  did  he  that  came  in  for  their  relief  call  out  to  the  ruffians,  saying,  "  What 
is  that  thing  you  do?  Would  you  make  my  Lord's  people  to  transgress?"  He  also 
attempted  to  take  them,  but  they  did  make  their  escape  over  the  wall  into  the  garden 
of  the  man  to  whom  the  great  dog  belonged ;  so  the  dog  became  their  protector. 
This  Reliever  then  came  up  to  the  women  and  asked  them  how  they  did. 

So  they  answered,  "  We  thank  thy  Prince,  pretty  well,  only  we  have  been  some- 
what affrighted.  We  thank  thee  also  for  that  thou  earnest  in  to  our  help,  otherwise  we 
had  been  overcome." 

So,  after  a  few  more  words,  this  Reliever  said  as  followeth:  "I  mar-   T|,0K(,iievoriiUks 
veiled  much,  when  you  were  entertained  at  the  gale  above,  seeing  ye  tolll(>xvollR'"- 
knew  that  ye  were  but  weak  women,  that  you  petitioned  not  the  Lord  for  a  conduc- 
tor ;  then  might  you  have  avoided  these  troubles  and  dangers ;  for  he  would  have 
granted  you  one." 

"Alas,"  said  Christiana,  "we  were  so  taken  with  our  present  bless-      Mark  tins! 
ing  that  dangers  to  come  were  forgotten  by  us.     Besides,  who  could  have  thought 
that  so  near  the  King's  palace  there  could  have  lurked  such  naugjity  ones  ?     Indeed, 
it  had  been  well  for  us  had  we  asked  our  Lord  for  one ;  but  since  our  Lord  knew  it 
would  be  for  our  profit,  I  wonder  he  sent  not  one  along  with  us." 

REL.  It  is  not  always  necessary  to  grant  things  not  asked  for,  lest  by  Wp  lose  for  not 
so  doing  they  become  of  little  esteem ;  but  when  the  want  of  a  thing  is  ask1"-- 
felt,  it  then  comes  under,  in  the  eyes  of  him  that  feels  it,  that  estimate  that  properly 
is  its  due,  and  so  consequently  will  be  thereafter  used.  Had  my  Lord  granted  you  a 
conductor,  you  would  not  either  so  have  bewailed  that  oversight  of  yours  in  not  ask- 
ing for  one  as  now  you  have  occasion  to  do.  So  all  things  work  for  good,  and  tend  to 
make  you  more  wary. 

CHR.  Shall  we  go  back  again  to  my  Lord  and  confess  our  folly,  and  ask  one  ? 

REL.  Your  confession  of  your  folly  I  will  present  him  with.  To  go  back  again 
you  need  not,  for  in  all  places  where  you  shall  come  you  will  find  no  want  at  all ;  for 
in  every  one  of  my  Lord's  lodgings,  which  he  has  prepared  for  the  reception  of  his 
pilgrims,  there  is  sufficient  to  furnish  them  against  all  attempts  whatsoever.  But,  as 
I  said,  He  will  be  inquired  of  by  them  to  do  it  for  them.  Ezek.  36:  37.  And  'tis  a 
poor  thing  that  is  not  worth  asking  for. 

When  he  had  thus  said,  he  went  back  to  his  place,  and  the  pilgrims  went  on 
their  way. 

Then  said  Mercy,  "  What  a  sudden  blank  is  here  !     I  made  account       The  mlstake  of 
that  we  had  been  past  all  danger,  and  that  we  should  never  see  sorrow  Mercy- 
more." 

"Thine  innocency,  my  sister,"  said  Christiana  to  Mercy,  "may  excuse  thee  much; 
but  as  for  me,  my  fault  is  so  much  the  greater,  for  that  I  saw  this  danger  before  I 
came  out  of  the  doors,  and  yet  did  not  provide  for  it  when  provision  might  have  been 
had.  I  am  much  to  be  blamed." 


FOES  ARE  TO  BE  EXPECTED. 


227 


mi  pilgrimage. 


Then  said  Mercy,  "  How  knew  you  this  before  you  came  from  home  ?  Pray  open 
to  me  this  riddle." 

Christiana's  CHR.  Why,  I  will  tell  you.  Before  I  set  foot  out  of  doors,  one  night 

dream  repeated.  as  j  ]ay  jn  my  ^e(j  j  ^^  a  dream  about  this;  for  methought  I  saw  two 
men,  as  like  these  as  ever  any  in  the  world  could  look,  stand  at  my  bed's  foot,  plotting 
how  they  might  prevent  my  salvation.  I  will  tell  you  their  very  words.  They  said 
(it  was  when  I  was  in  my  troubles),  "  What  shall  we  do  with  this  woman  ?  for  she 
cries  out,  waking  and  sleeping,  for  forgiveness.  If  she  be  suffered  to  go  on  as  she 
begins,  we  shall  lose  her  as  we  have  lost  her  husband."  This  you  know  might  have 
made  me  take  heed,  and  have  provided  when  provision  might  have  been  had. 

Mercy  makes  "  Well,"  said  Mercy,  "  as  by  this  neglect  we  have  an  occasion  minis- 

good  use  of  their  -LIU  •  r^-  T     _J    t.         A   1 

m-jried  of  duty,  tered  unto  us  to  behold  our  own  imperfections,  so  our  Lord  has  taken 
occasion  thereby  to  make  manifest  the  riches  of  his  grace  ;  for  he,  as  we  see,  has  fol- 
lowed us  with  unasked  kindness,  and  has  delivered  us  from  their  hands  that  were 
stronger  than  we,  of  his  mere  good  pleasure." 

Thus  now,  when  they  had  talked  away  a  little  more  time,  they  drew  near  to  a 
house  which  stood  in  the  way,  which  house  was  built  for  the  relief  of  pilgrims,  as  you 
T-nk  in  inter-  w^  ^n<^  more  fully  related  in  the  first  part  of  these  records  of  the  Pil- 
cheristiana'sse  going  gritti's  Progress.     So  they  drew  on  towards  the  house  (the  house  of  the 
Interpreter) ;  and  when  they  came  to  the  door  they  heard  a  great  talk  in 

the  house.  Then  they  gave  ear,  and  heard, 
as  they  thought,  Christiana  mentioned  by 
name ;  for  you  must  know  that  there  went 
along,  even  before  her,  a  talk  of  her  and 
her  children's  going  on  pilgrimage.  And 
this  was  the  more  pleasing  to  them  be- 
cause they  had  heard  that  she  was  Chris- 
tian's wife,  that  woman  who  was  some 
time  ago  so  unwilling  to  hear  of  going 
on  pilgrimage.  Thus,  therefore,  they 
stood  still,  and  heard  the  good  people 
within  commending  her  who  they  little 
thought  stood  at  the  door.  At  last  Chris- 
tiana knocked,  as  she  had  done  at  the  gate 
The  door  is  before.  Now,  when  she  had 

opened    to    them  ,        .  ., 

by  innocent.  knocked,  there  came  to  the 
door  a  young  damsel,  and  opened  the 
door,  and  looked,  and  behold,  two  women 
were  there. 

Then  said  the  damsel  to  them,  "  With 
whom  would  you  speak  in  this  place  ?" 

Christiana  answered, "  We  understand 
that  this  is  a  privileged  place  for  those 


INNOCENT. 


228  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

that  are  become  pilgrims,  and  we  now  at  this  door  are  such.  Wherefore  we  pray  that 
we  may  be  partakers  of  that  for  which  we  at  this  time  are  come ;  for  the  day,  as  thou 
seest,  is  very  far  spent,  and  we  are  loath  to-night  to  go  any  further." 

DAM.  Pray,  what  may  I  call  your  name,  that  I  may  tell  it  to  my  Lord  within  ? 

CHR.  My  name  is  Christiana  ;  I  was  the  wife  of  that  pilgrim  that  some  years  ago 
did  travel  this  way,  and  these  be  his  four  children.  This  maiden  also  is  my  compan- 
ion, and  is  going  on  pilgrimage  too. 

Then  Innocent  ran  in  (for  that  was  her  name),  and  said  to  those  within,  "  Can 
you  think  who  is  at  the  door  ?  There  is  Christiana  and  her  children  and  her  com- 
panion, all  waiting  for  entertainment  here."  Then  they  leaped  for  joy,  Joy  in  the  house 
and  went  and  told  their  Master.  lV'1-ffilK Is 

So  he  came  to  the  door,  and  looking  upon  her,  he  said,  "  Art  thou  turued  pilgrim< 
that  Christiana  whom  Christian  the  good  man  left  behind  him  when  he  betook  him- 
self to  a  pilgrim's  life  ?" 

CHR.  I  am  that  woman  that  was  so  hard-hearted  as  to  slight  my  husband's 
troubles,  and  that  left  him  to  go  on  his  journey  alone,  and  these  are  his  four 
children.  But  now  I  also  am  come,  for  I  am  convinced  that  no  way  is  right 
but  this. 

INTER.  Then  is  fulfilled  that  which  is  written  of  the  man  that  said  to  his  son,  "  Go 
work  to-day  in  my  vineyard ;  and  he  said  to  his  father,  I  will  not ;  but  afterwards 
repented  and  went."  Matt.  21  :  29. 

Then  said  Christiana,  "  So  be  it :  Amen.  God  make  it  a  true  saying  upon  me, 
and  grant  that  I  may  be  found  at  the  last  of  him  in  peace,  without  spot  and  blame- 
less." 

INTER.  But  why  standest  thou  thus  at  the  door?  Come  in,  thou  daughter  of 
Abraham ;  we  were  talking  of  thee  but  now,  for  tidings  have  come  to  us  before  how 
thou  art  become  a  pilgrim.  Come,  children,  come  in  ;  come,  maiden,  come  in. 

So  he  had  them  all  into  the  house. 

So  when  they  were  within,  they  were  bidden  to  sit  down  and  rest  them ;  the 
which  when  they  had  done,  those  that  attended  upon  the  pilgrims  in  the  Okl  saillts  Rhu] 
house  came  into  the  room  to  see  them.  And  one  smiled,  and  another  onefwaiunSl 
smiled,  and  they  all  smiled  for  joy  that  Christiana  was  become  a  pilgrim.  ways> 
They  also  looked  upon  the  boys ;  they  stroked  them  over  their  faces  with  the  hand,  in 
token  of  their  kind  reception  of  them.  They  also  carried  it  lovingly  to  Mercy,  and  bid 
them  all  welcome  into  the  Master's  house. 

After  a  while,  because  supper  was  not  ready,  the  Interpreter  took  them  into  his 
Significant-rooms  and  showed  them  what  Christian,  Christiana's  husband,  had  seen 
some  time  before.  Here,  therefore,  they  saw  the  man  in  the  cage,  the  man  and  his 
dream,  the  man  that  cut  his  way  through  his  enemies,  and  the  picture  of  the  biggest 
of  them  all,  together  with  the  rest  of  those  things  that  were  then  so  profitable  to 
Christian. 

This  done,  and  after  those  things  had  been  somewhat  digested  by  Christiana  and 
her  company,  the  Interpreter  takes  them  apart  again  and  has  them  first  into  a  room 


'A   MAN   THAT   COULD   LOOK   NO   WAY   BUT   DOWNWARDS,   WITH  A   MUCK-RAKE  IN    HIS   HAND. 


230  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

where  was  a  man  that  could  look  no  way  but  downwards,  with  a  muck-rake  in  his 
hand.      There  stood   also  one  over   his  head  with  a  celestial  crown  in        The  man  with 

the  muck-rake  ex- 

his  hand,  and  proffered  him  that  crown  for  his  muck-rake ;  but  the  man  pounded. 

did  neither  look  up  nor  regard,  but  raked  to  himself  the  straws,  the  small  sticks,  and 

dust  of  the  floor. 

Then  said  Christiana,  "  I  persuade  myself  that  I  know  somewhat  the  meaning  of 
this ;  for  this  is  the  figure  of  a  man  of  this  world,  is  it  not,  good  sir?" 

"  Thou  hast  said  right,"  said  the  Interpreter ;  "  and  his  muck-rake  doth  show  his 
carnal  mind.  And  whereas  thou  seest  him  rather  give  heed  to  rake  up  straws  and 
sticks  and  the  dust  of  the  floor  than  to  do  what  he  says  that  calls  to  him  from  above 
with  the  celestial  crown  in  his  hand,  it  is  to  show  that  heaven  is  but  as  a  fable  to  some, 
and  that  things  here  are  counted  the  only  things  substantial.  Now,  whereas  it  was 
also  showed  thee  that  the  man  could  look  no  way  but  downwards,  it  is  to  let  thee 
know  that  earthly  things,  when  they  are  with  power  upon  men's  minds,  quite  carry 
their  hearts  away  from  God." 

Then  said  Christiana,  "  Oh,  deliver  me  from  this  muck-rake !"     Prov.          Christiana's 

prayer  against  the 
•3Q  :  8.  muck-rake. 

"That  prayer,"  said  the'  Interpreter,  "has  lain  by  till  it  is  almost  rusty.  'Give 
me  not  riches,'  is  scarce  the  prayer  of  one  in  ten  thousand.  Straws  and  sticks  and 
dust,  with  most,  are  the  great  things  now  looked  after." 

With  that  Christiana  and  Mercy  wept,  and  said,  "  It  is,  alas,  too  true." 

When  the  Interpreter  had  showed  them  this,  he  had  them  into  the  very  best 
room  in  the  house ;  a  very  brave  room  it  was.  So  he  bid  them  look  round  about,  and 
see  if  they  could  find  anything  profitable  there.  Then  they  looked  round  and  round  ; 
for  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  but  a  very  great  spider  on  the  wall,  and  that  they 
overlooked. 

Then  said  Mercy,  "  Sir,  I  see  nothing  ;"  but  Christiana  held  her  peace. 

"  But,"  said  the  Interpreter,  "  look  again." 

She  therefore  looked  again,  and  said,  "  Here  is  not  anything  but  an  Talk  about  the 
ugly  spider,  who  hangs  by  her  hands  upon  the  wall." 

Then  said  he,  "  Is  there  but  one  spider  in  all  this  spacious  room  ?" 

Then  the  water  stood  in  Christiana's  eyes,  for  she  was  a  woman  quick  of  appre- 
hension ;  and  she  said,  "  Yea,  Lord,  there  are  more  here  than  one ;  yea,  and  spiders 
whose  venom  is  far  more  destructive  than  that  which  is  in  her." 

The  Interpreter  then  looked  pleasantly  on  her,  and  said,  "  Thou  hast  said  the 
truth." 

This  made  Mercy  to  blush  and  the  boys  to  cover  their  faces ;  for  they  all  began 
now  to  understand  the  riddle. 

Then  said  the  Interpreter  again,  "  The  spider  taketh  hold  with  her  hands,'  as  you 
see,  'and  is  in  kings'  palaces.'  Prov.  20:38.  And  wherefore  is  this  recorded  but  to 
show  you  that,  how  full  of  the  venom  of  sin  soever  you  be,  yet  you  may,  by  the  hand 
of  faith,  lay  hold  of  and  dwell  in  the  best  room  that  belongs  to  the  King's  house 
above  ?" 


IMPRESSIVE  OBJECT-LESSONS.  231 

"  I  thought,"  said  Christiana,  "  of  something  of  this ;  but  I  could  not  imagine  it  at 
all.  I  thought  that  we  were  like  spiders,  and  that  we  looked  like  ugly  creatures,  in 
what  fine  rooms  soever  we  were;  but  that  by  this  spider,  that  venomous  and  ill- 
favored  creature,  we  were  to  learn  how  to  act  faith,  that  came  not  into  my  thoughts ; 
and  yet  she  hath  taken  hold  with  her  hands,  and,  as  I  see,  dwelleth  in  the  best  room 
in  the  house.  God  has  made  nothing  in  vain." 

Then  they  seemed  all  to  be  glad ;   but  the  water  stood  in  their  eyes ;   yet  they 
looked  one  upon  another,  and  also  bowed  before  the  Interpreter, 
or  the  hen  and  He  had  them  into  another  room  where  were  a  hen  and  chickens,  and 

bid  them  observe  a  while.  So  one  of  the  chickens  went  to  the  trough  to 
drink,  and  every  time  she  drank  she  lifted  up  her  head  and  her  eyes  towards  heaven. 
"  See,"  said  he,  "what  this  little  chick  doth,  and  learn  of  her  to  acknowledge  whence 
your  mercies  come,  by  receiving  them  with  looking  up.  Yet  again,"  said  he,  "observe 
and  look."  So  they  gave  heed  and  perceived  that  the  hen  did  walk  in  a  fourfold 
method  towards  her  chickens.  First,  she  had  a  common  call,  and  that  she  hath  all 
the  day  long  ;  second,  she  had  a  special  call,  and  that  she  had  but  sometimes  ;  third, 
she  had  a  brooding  note.  Matt.  23:37;  and  fourth,  she  had  an  outcry. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  "  compare  this  hen  to  your  King  and  these  chickens  to  his  obe- 
dient ones ;  for,  answerable  to  her,  he  himself  hath  his  methods  which  he  walketh  in 
towards  his  people.  By  his  common  call  he  gives  nothing ;  by  his  special  call  he 
always  has  something  to  give  ;  he  has  also  a  brooding  voice  for  them  that  are  under 
his  wing ;  and  he  has  an  outcry,  to  give  the  alarm  when  he  seeth  the  enemy  come. 
I  choose,  my  darlings,  to  lead  you  into  the  room  where  such  things  are,  because  you 
are  women,  and  they  are  easy  for  you." 

"  And,  sir,"  said  Christiana,  "  pray  let  us  see  some  more." 

or  the  butcher  So  ^e  ^^  them  into  the  slaughter-house,  where  was  a  butcher  killing 
ana  the  sheep.  a  sheep  .  an(j  behold,  the  sheep  was  quiet  and  took  her  death  patiently. 
Then  said  the  Interpreter,  "  You  must  learn  of  this  sheep  to  suffer,  and  to  put  up  with 
wrongs  without  murmurings  and  complaints.  Behold  how  quietly  she  takes  her  death, 
and,  without  objecting,  she  suffereth  her  skin  to  be  pulled  over  her  ears.  Your  King 
doth  call  you  his  sheep." 

of  the  garden.  After  this  he  led  them  into  his  garden,  where  was  great  variety  of 
flowers ;  and  he  said,  "  Do  you  see  all  these  ?" 

So  Christiana  said,  "  Yes." 

Then  said  he  again,  "  Behold,  the  flowers  are  diverse  in  stature,  in  quality  and 
color  and  smell  and  virtue,  and  some  are  better  than  others ;  also,  where  the  gardener 
has  set  them,  there  they  stand,  and  quarrel  not  one  with  another." 

of  the  Held.  Again,  he  had  them  into  his  field,  which  he  had  sown  with  wheat 

and  corn ;  but  when  they  beheld,  the  tops  of  all  were  cut  off,  and  only  the  straw 
remained.  He  said  again,  "  This  ground  was  dunged  and  ploughed  and  sowed,  but 
what  shall  we  do  with  the  crop  ?" 

Then  said  Christiana,  "  Burn  some,  and  make  muck  of  the  rest." 

Then  said  the  Interpreter  again,  "  Fruit,  you  see,  is  that  thing  you  look  for :  and 


232  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

for  want  of  that  you  condemn  it  to  the  fire,  and  to  be  trodden  under  foot  of  men  : 
beware  that  in  this  you  condemn  not  yourselves." 

Then  as  they  were  coming  in  from  abroad,  they  espied  a  little  robin     or  the  robin  and 
with   a  great  spider  in  his  mouth.      So  the   Interpreter  said,   "Look  thesPider- 
here." 

So  they  looked  and  Mercy  wondered ;  but  Christiana  said,  "  What  a  disparage- 
ment is  it  to  such  a  pretty  little  bird  as  the  robin-redbreast ;  he  being  also  a  bird 
above  many,  that  loveth  to  maintain  a  kind  of  sociableness  with  men  !  I  had  thought 
they  had  lived  upon  crumbs  of  bread,  or  upon  other  such  harmless  matter :  I  like  him 
worse  than  I  did." 

The  Interpreter  then  replied,  "This  robin  is  an  emblem  very  apt  to  set  forth 
some  professors  by ;  for  to  sight  they  are,  as  this  robin,  pretty  of  note,  color,  and 
carriage.  They  seem  also  to  have  a  very  great  love  for  professors  that  are  sincere, 
and  above  all  others  to  desire  to  associate  with  them  and  to  be  in  their  company, 
as  if  they  could  live  upon  the  good  man's  crumbs.  They  pretend  also  that  there- 
fore it  is  that  they  frequent  the  house  of  the  godly  and  the  appointments  of  the 
Lord ;  but  when  they  are  by  themselves,  as  the  robin,  they  can  catch  and  gobble 
up  spiders — they  can  change  their  diet,  drink  iniquity,  and  swallow  down  sin  like 
water." 

So,  when  they  were  come  again  into  the  house,  because  supper  as  yet       pra   and 
was  not  ready,  Christiana  again  desired  that  the  Interpreter  would  either  wii!cife-etaiiestun- 
show  or  tell  some  other  things  that  are  profitable.  revealed. 

Then  the  Interpreter  began  and  said,  "The  fatter  the  sow  is,  the  more  she 
desires  the  mire  ;  the  fatter  the  ox  is,  the  more  gamesomely  he  goes  to  the  slaughter ; 
and  the  more  healthy  the  lustful  man  is,  the  more  prone  he  is  unto  evil.  There  is  a 
desire  in  women  to  go  neat  and  fine ;  and  it  is  a  comely  thing  to  be  adorned  with  that 
which  in  God's  sight  is  of  great  price.  'T  is  easier  watching  a  night  or  two  than  to 
sit  up  a  whole  year  together ;  so  't  is  easier  for  one  to  begin  to  profess  well  than  to 
hold  out  as  he  should  to  the  end.  Every  shipmaster  when  in  a  storm  will  willingly 
cast  that  overboard  which  is  of  the  smallest  value  in  the  vessel ;  but  who  will  throw 
the  best  out  first  ?  None  but  he  that  feareth  not  God.  One  leak  will  sink  a  ship  and 
one  sin  will  destroy  a  sinner.  He  that  forgets  his  friend  is  ungrateful  unto  him  ;  but 
he  that  forgets  his  Saviour  is  unmerciful  to  himself.  He  that  lives  in  sin  and  looks 
for  happiness  hereafter,  is  like  him  that  soweth  cockle  and  thinks  to  fill  his  barn  with 
wheat  or  barley.  If  a  man  would  live  well,  let  him  fetch  his  last  day  to  him,  and 
make  it  always  his  company-keeper.  Whispering,  and  change  of  thoughts,  prove  that 
sin  is  in  the  world.  If  the  world,  which  God  sets  light  by,  is  counted  a  thing  of  that 
worth  with  men,  what  is  heaven  that  God  commendeth  !  If  the  life  that  is  attended 
with  so  many  troubles  is  so  loath  to  be  let  go  by  us,  what  is  the  life  above  ?  Every- 
body will  cry  up  the  goodness  of  men  ;  but  who  is  there  that  is,  as  he  should  be, 
affected  with  the  goodness  of  God  ?  We  seldom  sit  down  to  meat  but  we  eat  and 
leave  ;  so  there  is  in  Jesus  Christ  more  merit  and  righteousness  than  the  whole  world 
lias  nee4  of," 


AT  THE  SUPPER-TABLE.  233 

When  the  Interpreter  had  done  he  takes  them  out  into  his  garden  again,  and  had 
or  the  tree  rot-  tnem  to  a  tree  whose  inside  was  all  rotten  and  gone,  and  yet  it  grew  and 
ten  at  heart.  had  ieaves.  Then  said  Mercy,  "  What  means  this  ?" 

"  This  tree,"  said  he,  "  whose  outside  is  fair  and  whose  inside  is  rotten,  is  that  to 
which  many  may  be  compared  that  are  in  the  garden  of  God  ;  who  with  their  mouths 
speak  high  in  behalf  of  God,  but  indeed  will  do  nothing  for  him  ;  whose  leaves  are 
fair,  but  their  heart  good  for  nothing  but  to  be  tinder  for  the  devil's  tinder-box." 

They  are  at  Now  supper  was  ready,  the  table  spread,  and  all  things  set  on  the 
supper.  board  ;  so  they  sat  down  and  did  eat  when  one  had  given  thanks.  And 

the  Interpreter  did  usually  entertain  those  that  lodged  with  him  with  music  at  meals  ; 
so  the  minstrels  played.  There  was  also  one  that  did  sing,  and  a  very  fine  voice  he 
had.  His  song  was  this  : 

"The  Lord  is  only  my  support, 
And  he  that  doth  me  feed  ; 
How  can  I  then  want  anything 
Whereof  I  stand  in  need  ?" 

When  the  song  and  music  were  ended,  the  Interpreter  asked  Christiana  what  it 

was  that  at  first  did  move  her  thus  to  betake  herself  to  a  pilgrim's  life.     Christiana 

A  repetition  answered,  "  First,  the  loss  of  my  husband  came  into  my  mind,  at  which  I 

or  Christian's  ex-  J  J   . 


. 

was  heartily  grieved  ;  but  all  that  was  but  natural  affection.  Then  after 
that  came  the  troubles  and  pilgrimage  of  my  husband  into  my  mind,  and  also  how 
like  a  churl  I  had  carried  it  to  him  as  to  that.  So  guilt  took  hold  of  my  mind  and 
would  have  drawn  me  into  the  pond,  but  that  opportunely  I  had  a  dream  of  the  well- 
being  of  my  husband,  and  a  letter  sent  me  by  the  King  of  that  country  where  my 
husband  dwells,  to  come  to  him.  The  dream  and  the  letter  together  so  wrought  upon 
my  mind  that  they  forced  me  to  this  way." 

INTER.  But  met  you  with  no  opposition  before  you  set  out  of  doors  ? 

CHR.  Yes,  a  neighbor  of  mine,  one  Mrs.  Timorous:  she  was  akin  to  him  that 
would  have  persuaded  my  husband  to  go  back  for  fear  of  the  lions.  She  also  befooled 
me,  for,  as  she  called  it,  my  intended  desperate  adventure  ;  she  also  urged  what  she 
could  to  dishearten  me  from  it,  the  hardships  and  troubles  that  my  husband  met  with 
in  the  way  ;  but  all  this  I  got  over  pretty  well.  But  a  dream  that  I  had  of  two  ill- 
looking  ones  that  I  thought  did  plot  how  to  make  me  miscarry  in  my  journey,  that 
hath  troubled  me  much  ;  yea,  it  still  runs  in  my  mind  and  makes  me  afraid  of  every 
one  that  I  meet,  lest  they  should  meet  me  to  do  me  a  mischief  and  to  turn  me  out 
of  my  way.  Yea,  I  may  tell  my  Lord,  though  I  would  not  have  everybody  know  of 
it,  that,  between  this  and  the  gate  by  which  we  got  into  the  way,  we  were  both  so 
sorely  assaulted  that  we  were  made  to  cry  out  murder  ;  and  the  two  that  made  this 
assault  upon  us  were  like  the  two  that  I  saw  in  my  dream. 

A  question  put  Then  said  the  Interpreter,  "  Thy  beginning  is  good  ;  thy  latter  end 

shall  greatly  increase."  So  he  addressed  himself  to  Mercy,  and  said  unto 
her,  "And  what  moved  thee  to  come  hither,  sweetheart  ?" 

Then  Mercy  blushed  and  trembled,  and  for  a  while  continued  silent. 


234  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

Then  said  the  Interpreter,  "  Be  not  afraid  ;  only  believe  and  speak  thy  mind." 

So  Mercy  began,  and  said,  ''Truly,  sir,  my  want  of  experience  is  that  which 
makes  me  covet  to  be  in  silence,  and  that  also  that  fills  me  with  fears  of  coming  short 
at  last.  I  cannot  tell  of  visions  and  dreams  as  my  friend  Christiana  can,  nor  know  I 
what  it  is  to  mourn  for  my  refusing  the  counsel  of  those  that  were  good  relations." 

INTER.  What  was  it  then,  dear  heart,  that  hath  prevailed  with  thee  to  do  as  thou 
hast  done  ? 

MER.  Why,  when  our  friend  here  was  packing  up  to  be  gone  from  our  town,  I 
and  another  went  accidentally  to  see  her.  So  we  knocked  at  the  door  and  went  in. 
When  we  were  within,  and  seeing  what  she  was  doing,  we  asked  her  what  was  her 
meaning.  She  said  she  was  sent  for  to  go  to  her  husband ;  and  then  she  up  and  told 
us  how  she  had  seen  him  in  a  dream,  dwelling  in  a  curious  place  among  immortals, 
wearing  a  crown,  playing  upon  a  harp,  eating  and  drinking  at  his  Prince's  table  and 
singing  praises  to  him  for  bringing  him  thither,  etc.  Now,  methought,  while  she  was 
telling  these  things  unto  us,  my  heart  burned  within  me.  And  I  said  in  my  heart, 
If  this  be  true,  I  will  leave  my  father  and  my  mother  and  the  land  of  my  nativity, 
and  will,  if  I  may,  go  along  with  Christiana.  So  I  asked  her  further  of  the  truth  of 
these  things,  and  if  she  would  let  me  go  with  her ;  for  I  saw  now  that  there  was  no 
dwelling,  but  with  the  danger  of  ruin,  any  longer  in  our  town.  But  yet  I  came  away 
with  a  heavy  heart ;  not  for  that  I  was  unwilling  to  come  away,  but  for  that  so  many 
of  my  relations  were  left  behind.  And  I  am  come  with  all  the  desire  of  my  heart, 
^nd  will  go,  if  I  may,  with  Christiana  unto  her  husband  and  his  King. 

INTER.  Thy  setting  out  is  good,  for  thou  hast  given  credit  to  the  truth ;  thou  art 
a  Ruth,  who  did,  for  the  love  she  bore  to  Naomi  and'  to  the  Lord  her  God,  leave 
father  and  mother  and  the  land  of  her  nativity  to  come  out  and  go  with  a  people  that 
she  knew  not  heretofore.  "  The  Lord  recompense  thy  work,  and  a  full  reward  be 
given  thee  of  the  Lord  God  of  Israel,  under  whose  wings  thou  art  come  to  trust." 
Ruth  2:11,  12. 

Now  supper  was   ended  and   preparation  was  made  for  bed;   the  women  were 
laid  singly  alone,  and  the  boys  by  themselves.     Now  when  Mercy  was  in         Mercy's  good 
bed  she  could  not  sleep  for  joy,  for  that  now  her  doubts  of  missing  at  last  nigllt's  rest' 
were  removed  further  from  her  than  ever  they  were  before.     So  she  lay  blessing  and 
praising  God  who  had  such  favor  for  her. 

In  the  morning  they  arose  with  the  sun  and  prepared  themselves  for  their 
departure ;  but  the  Interpreter  would  have  them  tarry  a  while.  "  For,"  said  he,  "  you 
must  orderly  go  from  hence."  Then  said  he  to  the  damsel  that  first  opened  unto 
them,  "  Take  them  and  have  them  into  the  garden  to  the  bath,  and  there  The  bath  or 

wash  them  and  make  them  clean  from  the  soil  which  they  have  gathered  Sanctiflcation- 
by  travelling."  Then  Innocent,  the  damsel,  took  them  and  led  them  into  the  garden 
and  brought  them  to  the  bath ;  so  she  told  them  that  there  they  must  wash  and  be 
clean,  for  so  her  Master  would  have  the  women  to  do  that  called  at  his  house  as  they 
were  going  on  pilgrimage.  Then  they  went  in  and  washed,  yea,  they  and  the  boys 
and  all ;  and  they  came  out  of  that  bath  not  only  sweet  and  clean,  but  also  much 


PILGRIM  GARMENTS.  235 

enlivened  and  strengthened  in  their  joints.  So  when  they  came  in  they  looked  fairer 
a  deal  than  when  they  went  out  to  the  washing. 

When  they  were  returned  out  of  the  garden  from  the  bath,  the  Interpreter  took 
them  and  looked  upon  them,  and  said  unto  them,  "  Fair  as  the  moon."     Then  he 

The  piiorims  ca^e(^  for  the  seal  wherewith  they  used  to  be  sealed  that  were  washed  in 
are  sealed.  ^jg  bath.     go  the  seaj  was  brought  and  he  set  his  mark  upon  them,  that 

they  might  be  known  in  the  places  whither  they  were  yet  to  go.  Now  the  seal  was 
the  contents  and  sum  of  the  passover  which  the  children  of  Israel  did  eat, 
Exod.  13:8-10,  when  they  came  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt;  and  the  mark  was  set 
between  their  eyes.  This  seal  greatly  added  to  their  beauty,  for  it  was  an  ornament 
to  their  faces.  It  also  added  to  their  gravity  and  made  their  countenances  more  like 
those  of  angels. 

Then  said  the  Interpreter  again  to  the  damsel  that  waited  upon  these  women, 
"Go  into  the  vestry  and  fetch  out  garments  for  these  people."      So  she  went  and 

The  ii  rims  fetched  out  white  raiment  and  laid  it  down  before  him ;  so  he  corn- 
are  clothed.  manded  them  to  put  it  on :  it  was  fine  linen,  white  and  clean.  When 
the  women  were  thus  adorned,  they  seemed  to  be  a  terror  one  to  the  other;  for  that 
they  could  not  see  that  glory  each  one  had  in  herself  which  they  could  see  in  each 
True  immiiity.  other.  Now  therefore  they  began  to  esteem  each  other  better  than  them- 
selves. "For  you  are  fairer  than  I  am,"  said  one;  and,  "You  are  more  comely  than 
I  am,"  said  another.  The  children  also  stood  amazed  to  see  into  what  fashion  they 
were  brought. 


MR-    GREAT-HEART. 


HOW  PARDON  IS  OBTAINED.  237 

THE  FOURTH  STAGE. 

THE  Interpreter  then  called  for  a  man-servant  of  his,  one  Great-heart,  and  bid 
Great  heart  is  him  ta^e  a  sword  and  helmet  and  shield,  and,  "  Take  these  my  daughters," 


escort.  said  he  .  tt  conduct  them  to  the  house  called  Beautiful,  at  which  place  they 
will  rest  next."  So  he  took  his  weapons  and  went  before  them;  and  the  Interpreter 
said  "God  speed."  Those  also  that  belonged  to  the  family  sent  them  away  with 
many  a  good  wish.  So  they  went  on  their  way  and  sang, 

This  place  hath  been  our  second  stage: 

Here  we  have  heard  and  seen 
Those  good  things  that  from  age  to  age 

To  others  hid  have  been. 

The  dung-hill  raker,  spider,  hen, 

The  chicken  too,  to  me 
Have  taught  a  lesson  :  let  me  then 

Conformed  to  it  be. 

The  butcher,  garden,  and  the  field, 

The  robin  and  his  bait, 
Also  the  rotten  tree,  doth  yield 

Me  argument  of  weight, 

To  move  me  for  to  watch  and  pray, 

To  strive  to  be  sincere, 
To  take  my  cross  up  day  by  day, 

And  serve  the  Lord  with  fear. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  drearn.  that  these  went  on  and  Great-heart  before  them.  So 
they  went  and  came  to  the  place  where  Christian's  burden  fell  off  his  back  and 
tumbled  into  a  sepulchre.  Here  then  they  made  a  pause  ;  here  also  they  blessed  God. 
"  Now,"  said  Christiana,  "it  comes  to  my  mind  what  was  said  to  us  at  the  gate,  to  wit, 
that  we  should  have  pardon  by  word  and  deed  :  by  word,  that  is,  by  the  promise  ;  by 
deed,  to  wit,  in  the  way  it  was  obtained.  What  the  promise  is,  of  that  I  know  some- 
thing; but  what  it  is  to  have  pardon  by  deed,  or  in  the  way  that  it  was  obtained, 
Mr.  Great-heart,  I  suppose  you  know;  wherefore,  if  you  please,  let  us  hear  your 
discourse  thereof." 

GREAT-HEART.  Pardon  by  the  deed  done  is  pardon   obtained  by  some  one  for 

A  comment  an°ther  that  hath  need  thereof  ;  not  by  the  person  pardoned,  but  in  the 
sal?"  atvthe  gate*  way>  saith  another,  in  which  I  have  obtained  it.  So  then,  to  speak  to  the 
ourVing  'justified  question  more  at  large,  the  pardon  that  you  and  Mercy  and  these  boys 
have  attained  was  obtained  by  Another  ;  to  wit,  by  him  that  let  you  in  at 
the  gate.  And  he  hath  obtained  it  in  this  double  way  ;  he  hath  performed  righteous- 
ness to  cover  you,  and  spilt  his  blood  to  wash  you  in. 

CHRISTIANA.  But  if  he  parts  with  his  righteousness  to  us,  what  will  he  have  for 
himself  ? 


238  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

GREAT.  He  has  more  righteousness  than  you  have  need  of,  or  that  he  needeth 
himself. 

CHR.  Pray  make  that  appear. 

GREAT.  With  all  my  heart :  but  first  I  must  premise  that  He  of  whom  we  are 
now  about  to  speak  is  one  that  has  not  his  fellow.  He  has  two  natures  in  one  person, 
plain  to  be  distinguished,  impossible  to  be  divided.  Unto  each  of  these  natures  a 
righteousness  belongeth,  and  each  righteousness  is  essential  to  that  nature  ;  so  that 
one  may  as  easily  cause  the  nature  to  be  extinct  as  to  separate  its  justice  or  righteous- 
ness from  it.  Of  these  righteousnesses,  therefore,  we  are  not  made  partakers  so  as 
that  they,  or  any  of  them,  should  be  put  upon  us  that  we  might  be  made  just  and  live 
thereby.  Besides  these,  there  is  a  righteousness  which  this  person  has  as  these  two 
natures  are  joined  in  one.  And  this  is  not  the  righteousness  of  the  Godhead  as 
distinguished  from  the  manhood,  nor  the  righteousness  of  the  manhood  as  distin- 
guished from  the  Godhead ;  but  a  righteousness  which  standeth  in  the  union  of  both 
natiires  and  may  properly  be  called  the  righteousness  that  is  essential  to  his  being 
prepared  of  God  to  the  capacity  of  the  mediatory  office  which  he  was  intrusted  with. 
If  he  parts  with  his  first  righteousness,  he  parts  with  his  Godhead ;  if  he  parts  with 
his  second  righteousness,  he  parts  with  the  purity  of  his  manhood ;  if  he  parts  with 
his  third,  he  parts  with  that  perfection  which  capacitates  him  for  the  office  of  media- 
tion. He  has  therefore  another  righteousness,  which  standeth  in  performance  or 
obedience  to  a  revealed  will ;  and  that  is  what  he  puts  upon  sinners,  and  that  by  which 
their  sins  are  covered.  Wherefore  he  saith,  "As  by  one  man's  disobedience  many  were 
made  sinners,  so  by  the  obedience  of  one  shall  many  be  made  righteous."  Rom.  5:19. 

CHR.  But  are  the  other  righteousnesses  of  no  use  to  us? 

GREAT.  Yes ;  for  though  they  are  essential  to  his  natures  and  office,  and  cannot 
be  communicated  unto  another,  yet  it  is  by  virtue  of  them  that  the  righteousness  that 
justifies  is  for  that  purpose  efficacious.  The  righteousness  of  his  Godhead  giveth 
virtue  to  his  obedience ;  the  righteousness  of  his  manhood  giveth  capability  to  his 
obedience  to  justify ;  and  the  righteousness  that  standeth  in  the  union  of  these  two 
natures  to  his  office  giveth  authority  to  that  righteousness  to  do  the  work  for  which 
it  was  ordained. 

So  then  here  is  a  righteousness  that  Christ,  as  God,  has  no  need  of ;  for  he  is  God 
without  it.  Here  is  a  righteousness  that  Christ,  as  man,  has  no  need  of  to  make  him 
so ;  for  he  is  perfect  man  without  it.  Again,  here  is  a  righteousness  that  Christ,  as 
God-man,  has  no  need  of ;  for  he  is  perfectly  so  without  it.  Here  then  is  a  righteous- 
ness that  Christ,  as  God  and  as  God-man,  has  no  need  of  with  reference  to  himself, 
and  therefore  he  can  spare  it ;  a  justifying  righteousness  that  he  for  himself  wanteth 
not  and  therefore  giveth  it  away.  Hence  it  is  called  the  gift  of  righteousness.  This 
righteousness,  since  Christ  Jesus  the  Lord  has  made  himself  under  the  law,  must  be 
given  away ;  for  the  law  doth  not  only  bind  him  that  is  under  it  to  do  justly,  but  to 
use  charity.  Rom.  5:17.  Wherefore  he  must,  or  ought  by  the  law,  if  he  hath  two 
coats,  to  give  one  to  him  that  hath  none.  Now  our  Lord  indeed  hath  two  coats,  one 
for  himself  and  one  to  spare ;  wherefore  he  freely  bestows  one  upon  those  that  have 


THE  JO  Y  OF  PARDON.  239 

none.  And  thus,  Christiana  and  Mercy  and  the  rest  of  you  that  are  here,  doth  your 
pardon  come  by  deed,  or  by  the  work  of  another  man.  Your  Lord  Christ  is  he  that 
worked  and  hath  given  away  what  he  wrought  for  to  the  next  poor  beggar  he 
meets. 

But  again,  in  order  to  pardon  by  deed,  there  must  something  be  paid  to  God  as  a 
price  as  well  as  something  prepared  to  cover  us  withal.  Sin  has  delivered  us  up  to 
the  just  curse  of  a  righteous  law ;  now  from  this  curse  we  must  be  justified  by  way 
of  redemption,  a  price  being  paid  for  the  harms  we  have  done ;  and  this  is  by  the 
blood  of  your  Lord,  who  came  and  stood  in  your  place  and  stead  and  died  your  death 
for  your  transgressions.  Thus  has  he  ransomed  you  from  your  transgressions  by 
blood,  and  covered  your  polluted  and  deformed  souls  with  righteousness,  Rom.  8:  34; 
for  the  sake  of  which  God  passeth  by  you  and  will  not  hurt  you  when  he  comes  to 
judge  the  world.  Gal.  3:13. 

CUR.  This  is  brave !     Now  I  see  that  there  was  something  to  be  learned  by  our 
Christiana  af-  bemg"  pardoned  by  word  and  deed.     Good  Mercy,  let  us  labor  to  keep  this 
Se<1ofwredemps  in  mind ;  and,  my  children,  do  you  remember  it  also.     But,  sir,  was  not 
this  it  that  made  my  good  Christian's  burden  fall  from  off  his  shoul- 
ders, and  that  made  him  give  three  leaps  for  joy  ? 

HOW  the  cords  GREAT.  Yes,  it  was  the  belief  of  this  that  cut  those  string's  that  could 

that  fastened 

Christian's     bur-  not  be  cut  by  other  means;  and  it  was  to  give  him  a  proof  of  the  virtue 

/len  to  him   were        .,..,, 

cut.  of  this  that  he  was  suffered  to  carry  his  burden  to  the  cross. 

CHR.  I  thought  so ;  for  though  my  heart  was  lightsome  and  joyous  before,  yet  it 
is  ten  times  more  lightsome  and  joyous  now.  And  I  am  persuaded  by  what  I  have 
felt,  though  I  have  felt  but  little  as  yet,  that  if  the  most  burdened  man  in  the  world 
was  here,  and  did  see  and  believe  as  I  now  do,  it  would  make  his  heart  the  more 
merry  and  blithe. 

GREAT.  There  is  not  only  comfort  and  the  ease  of  a  burden  brought  to  us  by  the 
HOW  affection  sight   and  consideration  of  these,   but  an  endeared   affection  begot  in 

to  Christ  is  begot  fe 

us  by  it;  for  who  can,  if  he  doth  but  once  think  that  pardon  comes  not 
only  by  promise,  but  thus,  but  be  affected  with  the  way  and  means  of  his  redemption, 
and  so  with  the  Man  that  hath  wrought  it  for  him  ? 

CHR.  True ;  methinks  it  makes  my  heart  bleed  to  think  that  He  should  bleed  for 

me.     Oh,  thou  loving-  One!     Oh,  thou  blessed  One!     Thou  deservest  to  have  me; 

cause  or  ad-  t^1011  hast  bought  me.     Thou  deservest  to  have  me  all :  thou  hast  paid 

for  me  ten  thousand  times  more  than  I  am  worth.  No  marvel  that  this 
made  the  tears  stand  in  my  husband's  eyes,  and  that  it  made  him  trudge  so  nimbly 
on.  I  am  persuaded  he  wished  me  with  him ;  but,  vile  wretch  that  I  was,  I  let  him 
come  all  alone.  Oh,  Mercy,  that  thy  father  and  mother  were  here;  yea,  and  Mrs. 
Timorous  also ;  nay,  I  wish  now  with  all  my  heart  that  here  was  Madam  Wanton  too. 
Surely,  surely,  their  hearts  would  be  affected ;  nor  could  the  fear  of  the  one  nor  the 
powerful  lusts  of  the  other  prevail  with  them  to  go  home  again  and  refuse  to  become 
good  pilgrims. 

GREAT.  You  speak  now  in  the  warmth  of  your  affections :  will  it,  think  you,  be 


240 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


always  thus  with  you  ?  Besides,  this  is  not  communicated  to  every  one,  nor  to  every 
one  that  did  see  your  Jesus  bleed.  There  were  that  stood  by,  and  that  saw  the  blood 
run  from  his  heart  to  the  ground,  and  yet  were  so  far  off  this  that  instead  of  lament- 
ing: they  laughed  at  him,  and  instead  of  becoming  his  disciples  did  TO  be  affected 

n   .  ~         ,  ,  1        with    Christ    and 

harden  their  hearts  against  him.     bo  that  all  that  you  have,  mv  daugh-  with  what  he  has 

i  •  •  j       -u  • i  •     •  1    *  tlone'    is    a   tllinS 

ters,  you  have  by  peculiar  impression  made  by  a  divine  contemplating  special. 
upon  what  I  have  spoken  to  you.     Remember  that  't  was  told  you  that  the  hen,  by 
her  common  call,  gives  no  meat  to  her  chickens.      This  you  hav?  therefore  by  a 
special  grace. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  they  went  on  till  they  were  come  to  the  place  that 
Simple  and  Sloth  and  Presumption  lay  and  slept  in  when  Christian  went  by  on 
pilgrimage ;  and  behold  they  were  hanged  up  in  irons  a  little  way  off  on  the  other 
side. 

Then  said  Mercy  to  him  that  was  their  guide  and  conductor,  "  What        simple,  sioth, 

and    Presumption 

are  these  three  men ;  and  for  what  are  they  hanged  there  ?  hanged;  ami  why. 

GREAT.  These  three  were  men  of  bad  qualities ;  they  had  no  mind  to  be  pilgrims 
themselves,  and  whomsoever  they  could 
they  hindered.  They  were  sloth  and  folly 
themselves  and  whomsoever  they  could 
persuade  they  made  so  too,  and  withal 
taught  them  to  presume  that  they  should 
do  well  at  last.  They  were  asleep  when 
Christian  went  by;  and  now  you  go  by, 
they  are  hanged. 

MER.  But  could  they  persuade  any  to 
be  of  their  opinion  ? 

GREAT.  Yes,  they  turned  several  out  of 
the  way.  There  was  Slow-pace  that  they 
persuaded  to  do  as  they.  They  also  pre- 
vailed with  One  Short -wind,  Their  crimes. 

with  one  No-heart,  with  one  Linger -after 
lust,  and  with  one  Sleepy-head,  and  with  a 
young  woman,  her  name  was  Dull,  to  turn 
out  of  the  way  and  become  as  they.  Be- 
sides they  brought  up  an  ill-report  of  your 
Lord,  persuading  others  that  he  was  a  hard 
taskmaster.  They  also  brought  up  an  evil 
report  of  the  good  land,  saying  it  was  not 
half  so  good  as  some  pretended  it  was. 
They  also  began  to  vilify  his  servants  and 
to  count  the  best  of  them  meddlesome, 
troublesome  busybodies.  Further,  they  would  call  the  bread  of  God  husks,  the  com 
forts  of  his  children  fancies,  the  travel  and  labor  of  pilgrims  things  to  no  purpose. 


SHORT  WIND. 


PILGRIMS  IN  PRETENCE. 


241 


•'Nay,"  said  Christiana,  "if  they  were 
such,  they  should  never  be  bewailed  by  me : 
they  have  but  what  they  deserve ;  and  I 
think  it  is  well  that  they  stand  so  near  the 
highway  that  others  may  see  and  take 
warning.  But  had  it  not  been  well  if  their 
crimes  had  been  engraven  in  some  plate  of 
iron  or  brass,  and  left  here  where  they  did 
their  mischiefs,  for  a  caution  to  other  bad 
men?" 

GREAT.  So  it  is,  as  you  may  well  per- 
ceive if  you  will  go  a  little  to  the  wall. 

MERCY.  No,  no;  let  them  hang  and 
their  names  rot,  and  their  crimes  live  for- 
ever against  them.  I  think  it  a  high  favor 
that  they  were  hanged  before  we  came 
hither :  who  knows  else  what  they  might 
have  done  to  such  poor  women  as  we  are  ? 

Then  she  turned  it  into  a  song,  say- 
ing, 


NO-HEART. 


"Now  then  you  three  hang  there,  and  be  a  sign 
To  all  that  shall  against  the  truth  combine. 
And  let  him  that  comes  after  fear  this  end, 
If  unto  pilgrims  he  is  not  a  friend. 
And  thou,  my  soul,  of  all  such  men  beware 
That  unto  holiness  opposers  are." 

Thus  they  went  on  till  they  came  to 
the  foot  of  the  hill  Difficulty,  where  again 
the  good  Mr.  Great-heart  took  an  occasion 
to  tell  them  what  happened  there  when 
Christian  himself  went  by.  So  he  had 
them  first  to  the  spring.  "Lo,"  saith  he, 
"this  is  the  spring  that  Christian  drank  of 
it  is  difficult  before  he  went  up  this  hill: 

doctrine  °n  K    and      then     &     was     clear     and 
neous  times. 


SLEEPY-HEAD. 


the  feet  of  some  that  are  not  desirous  that 
pilgrims  here  should  quench  their  thirst." 
Ezek.  34:  1  8,  19. 

Thereat  Mercy  said,  "And  why  so  en« 
vious,  trow?" 


242 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


" But,"  said  their  guide,  "it  will  do  if  taken  up  and  put  into  a  vessel  that  is  sweet 
and  good ;  for  then  the  dirt  will  sink  to  the  bottom  and  the  water  come  out  by  itself 
more  clear."  Thus  therefore  Christiana  and  her  companions  were  compelled  to  do. 
They  took  it  up  and  put  it  into  an  earthen  pot,  and  so  let  it  stand  till  the  dirt  was 
gone  to  the  bottom,  and  then  they  drank  thereof. 

Next  he  showed  them  the  two  by-ways  that  were  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  where 
Formalist  and  Hypocrisy  lost  themselves.  "And,"  said  he,  "these  are  dangerous 
paths.  Two  were  here  cast  away  when  Christian  came  by ;  and  although,  The  paths, 

,  .  , '  vu       -u     •  j          though  barred  up, 

as  you  see,  these  ways  are  since  stopped  up  with  chains,  posts,  and  a  wm  not  keep  an 
ditch,  yet  there  are  those  that  will  choose  to  adventure  here  rather  than  them, 
take  the  pains  to  go  up  this  hill." 

CHR.  "  The  way  of  transgressors  is  hard."  Prov.  13:15.  It  is  a  wonder  that  they 
can  get  into  these  ways  without  danger  of  breaking  their  necks. 

GREAT.  They  will  venture ;  yea,  if  at  any  time  any  of  the  King's  servants  do 
happen  to  see.  them,  and  do  call  upon  them  and  tell  them  that  they  are  in  the  wrong 
way  and  do  bid  them  beware  of  the  danger,  then  they  railingly  return  them  answer, 
and  say,  "As  for  the  word  that  thou  hast 
spoken  unto  us  in  the  name  of  the  King, 
we  will  not  hearken  unto  thee ;  but  we 
will  certainly  do  whatsoever  thing  goeth 
out  of  our  own  mouth."     Jer.  44:  1 6,  17. 
Nay,  if  you  look  a  little  further  you  shall 
see  that  these  ways  are  made  cautionary 
enough,   not  only   by   these    posts    and 
ditch    and    chain,    but    also    by    being 
hedged  up ;  yet  they  will  choose  to  go 
there. 

CIIR.  They  are  idle;  they  love  not 
to  take  pains ;  up-hill  way  is 

« pleasant  to  them.     So  it 
fulfilled  unto  them  as  it 
is  written,  "  The  way  of  the  slothful  man 
is  as  a  hedge  of  thorns."     Prov.  15:  19. 
Yea,  they   will   rather    choose    to    walk 
upon  a  snare  than  to  go  up  this  hill  and 
the  rest  of  this  way  to  the  city. 

Then  they  set  forward  and  began  to 
go  up  the  hill,  and  up  the  hill  they  went. 
But  before  they  got  to  the  top,  Christi- 
ana began  to  pant  and  said,  The  hjll  puts 
"I  dare  say  this  is  a  breath-  the pilgrims to jt- 

ing  hill ;  no  marvel  if  they  that  love  their  ease  more  than  their  souls  choose  to  them- 
selves  a  smoother  way." 


The  reason 
why  some  do 
choose  to  go  in 
by-ways. 


HE   TOOK    THE   LITTLE   BOY   BY   THE    HAND   AND    LED 
HIM    UP   THERETO." 


REFRESHMENT  BY  THE   WAY.  243 

Then   said   Mercy,  "  I   must   sit   down ;"  also  the   least  of  the   children    began 
to  cry. 

''Come,  come,"  said  Great -heart,  "sit  not  down  here;  for  a  little  above  is  the 
Prince's  arbor."     Then  he  took  the  little  boy  by  the  hand  and  led  him  up  thereto. 

They  sit  m  the  When  they  were  come  to  the  arbor,  they  were  very  willing  to  sit 

arbor-  down,  for  they  were  all  in  a  pelting  heat.     Then  said  Mercy,  "  How 

sweet  is  rest  to  them  that  labor,  Matt.  1 1 :  28 ;  and  how  good  is  the  Prince  of  pilgrims 
to  provide  such  resting-places  for  them !  Of  this  arbor  I  have  heard  much ;  but  I 
never  saw  it  before.  But  here  let  us  beware  of  sleeping ;  for,  as  I  have  heard,  it  cost 
poor  Christian  dear." 

Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart  to  the  little  ones,  "  Come,  my  pretty  boys,  how  do  you 
do?     What  think  you  now  of  going  on  pilgrimage?" 

"Sir,"  said  the  least,  "I  was  almost  beat  out  of  heart;  but  I  thank 

1116  llttlC  DOy  S 

guideerand°aisotto  you  ^or  lending  me  a  hand  at  my  need.  And  I  remember  now  what  my 
Mercy.  mother  hath  told  me,  namely,  that  the  way  to  heaven  is  as  a  ladder, 

and  the  way  to  hell  is  as  down  a  hill.  But  I  had  rather  go  up  the  ladder  to  life  than 
down  the  hill  to  death." 

Then  said  Mercy,  "  But  the  proverb  is,  'To  go  down  the  hill  is  easy.' " 
But  James  said  (for  that  was  his  name),  "  The  day  is  coming  when,  in  my  opinion, 
going  down  the  hill  will  be  the  hardest  of  all." 

"  'Tis  a  good  boy,"  said  his  master;  "thou  hast  given  her  a  right  answer."     Then 
Mercy  smiled,  but  the  little  boy  did  blush. 

They  refresh  "Come,"  said  Christiana,  "will  you  eat  a  bit  to  sweeten  your  mouths 

themselves.  while  you  sit  here  to  rest  your  legs  ?  for  I  have  here  a  piece  of  pome- 

granate which  Mr.  Interpreter  put  into  my  hand  just  when  I  came  out  of  his  door ; 
he  gave  me  also  a  piece  of  a  honeycomb  and  a  little  bottle  of  spirits." 

"I  thought  he  gave  you  something,"  said  Mercy,  "because  he  called  you  aside." 
"Yes,  so  he  did,"  said  the  other;  "but,"  said  Christiana,  "it  shall  be  still  as  I  said 
it  should  when  at  first  we  came  from  home ;  thou  shalt  be  a  sharer  in  all  the  good  that 
I  have,  because  thou  so  willingly  didst  become  my  companion."     Then  she  gave  to^ 
them  and  they  did  eat,  both  Mercy  and  the  boys.     And  said  Christiana  to  Mr.  Great« 
heart,  "Sir,  will  you  do  as  we?" 

But  he  answered,  "You  are  going  on  pilgrimage,  and  presently  I  shall  return; 
much  good  may  what  you  have  do  you;  at  home  I  eat  the  same  every  day." 


244  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


THE  FIFTH  STAGE. 

Now  when  they  had  eaten  and  drank  and  had  chatted  a  little  longer,  their  guide 
said  to  them,  "  The  day  wears  away;  if  you  think  good,  let  us  prepare  to  be  going." 
So  they  got  up  to  go,  and  the  little  boys  went  before ;  but  Christiana       Christiana  for- 
forgot  to  take  her  bottle  of  spirits  with  her,  so  she  sent  her  little  boy  spirits, 
back  to  fetch  it. 

Then  said  Mercy,  "  I  think  this  is  a  losing  place ;  here  Christian  lost  his  roll,  and 
here  Christiana  left  her  bottle  behind  her.  Sir,  what  is  the  cause  of  this?" 

So  their  guide  made  answer  and  said,  "  The  cause  is  sleep,  or  forgetfulness :  some 
sleep  when  they  should  keep  awake,  and  some  forget  when  they  should  remember ; 
and  this  is  the  very  cause  why  often,  at  the  resting-places,  some  pilgrims  in  some 
things  come  off  losers.  Pilgrims  should  watch  and  remember  what  they  have  already 
received  under  their  greatest  enjoyments ;  but  for  want  of  doing  so,  often-  Mark  this, 
times  their  rejoicing  ends  in  tears  and  their  sunshine  in  a  cloud :  witness  the  story  of 
Christian  at  this  place." 

When  they  were  come  to  the  place  where  Mistrust  and  Timorous  met  Christian 
to  persuadfe  him  to  go  back  for  fear  of  the  lions,  they  perceived  as  it  were  a  stage,  and 
before  it,  towards  the  road,  a  broad  plate  with  a  copy  of  verses  written  thereon,  and 
underneath  the  reason  of  raising  up  that  stage  in  that  place  rendered.  The  verses 

were, 

"  Let  him  that  sees  this  stage  take  heed 

Unto  his  heart  and  tongue  ; 

Lest,  if  he  do  not,  here  he  speed 

As  some  have  long  agone." 

The  words  underneath  the  verses  were,  "  This  stage  was  built  to  punish  those 
upon  who,  through  timorousness  or  mistrust,  shall  be  afraid  to  go  further  on  pilgrim- 
age. Also,  on  this  stage  both  Mistrust  and  Timorous  were  burned  through  the  tongue 
with  a  hot  iron  for  endeavoring  to  hinder  Christian  on  his  journey." 

Then  said  Mercy,  "  This  is  much  like  to  the  saying  of  the  Beloved :  '  What  shall 
be  given  unto  thee,  or  what  shall  be  done  unto  thee,  thou  false  tongue  ?  Sharp  arrows 
of  the  mighty,  with  coals  of  juniper.'  "  Psa.  120 :  3,  4. 

So  they  went  on  till  they  came  within  sight  of  the  lions.  Now  Mr.  Great-heart 
was  a  strong  man,  so  he  was  not  afraid  of  a  lion.  But  yet  when  they  were  come  up  to 
the  place  where  the  lions  were,  the  boys,  that  went  before,  were  now  glad  to  cringe 
behind,  for  they  were  afraid  of  the  lions  ;  so  they  stepped  back  and  went  An  emblem  of 

"h^T-iinr!  those  tllat  S°  on 

L11U-  bravely         when 

At  this  their  guide  smiled,  and  said,  "  How  now,  my  boys ;  do  you  tS'AjS^JSS 
love  to  go  before  when  no  danger  doth  approach,  and  love  to  come  be-  trouble 
hind  so  soon  as  the  lions  appear?" 

Now,  as  they  went  on,  Mr.  Great-heart  drew  his  sword  with  intent  to  make  a  way 


GRIM,   THE  GIANT,  SLAIN. 


245 


for  the  pilgrims   in  spite  of   the   lions, 
or  Grim,  the  Then   there   appeared   one 

giant,   and  of  his  .  1-1-1 

backing  the  nous,  that,  it  seems,  had  taken 
upon  him  to  back  the  lions ;  and  he  said 
to  the  pilgrims'  guide,  "What  is  the 
cause  of  your  coming  hither?"  Now 
the  name  of  that  man  was  Grim,  or 
Bloody-man,  because  of  his  slaying  of 
pilgrims ;  and  he  was  of  the  race  of  the 
giants. 

Then  said  the  pilgrims'  guide, 
"  These  women  and  children  are  going 
on  pilgrimage,  and  this  is  the  way  they 
must  go ;  and  go  it  they  shall,  in  spite 
of  thee  and  the  lions." 

GRIM.  This  is  not  their  way,  neither 
shall  they  go  therein.  I  am  come  forth 
to  withstand  them,  and  to  that  end  will 
back  the  lions. 

Now,  to  say  truth,  by  reason  of  the 
fierceness  of  the  lions,  and  of  the  grim 
carriage  of  him  that  did  back  them,  this 
way  had  of  late  lain  much  unoccupied, 
and  was  almost  grown  over  with  grass. 

Then  said  Christiana,  "  Though  the  highways  have  been  unoccupied  heretofore, 
and  though  the  travellers  have  been  made  in  times  past  to  walk  through  by-paths,  it 
must  not  be  so  now  I  am  risen,  now  I  am  risen  a  mother  in  Israel."  Judges  5  : 6,  7. 

Then  Grim  swore  by  the  lions  that  it  should  ;  and  therefore  bid  them  turn  aside, 
for  they  should  not  have  passage  there. 
A  flght  between  But  Great-heart  their  guide  made  first  his  approach  unto  Grim,  and 

Grim   and    Great-  .,  .  •>        r  i  t  • 

heart.  laid  so  heavily  on  him  with  his  sword  that  he  forced  him  to  retreat. 

Then  said  he  that  attempted  to  back  the  lions,  "  Will  you  slay  me  upon  my  own 
ground?" 

GREAT.  It  is  the  King's  highway  that  we  are  in,  and  in  this  way  it  is  that  thou 
hast  placed  the  lions ;  but  these  women  and  these  children,  though  weak,  shall  hold 
.on  their  way  in  spite  of  thy  lions. 

And  with  that  he  gave  him  again  a  downright  blow  and  brought  him  upon  his 
knees.  With  this  blow  also  he  broke  his  helmet,  and  with  the  next  he  cut  off  an  arm. 
Then  did  the  giant  roar  so  hideously  that  his  voice  frightened  the  women,  and  yet 
TUB  victory,  they  were  glad  to  see  him  lie  sprawling  upon  the  ground.  Now  the  lions 
were  chained,  and  so  of  themselves  could  do  nothing.  Wherefore,  when  old  Grim, 
that  intended  to  back  them,  was  dead,  Mr.  Great-heart  said  to  the  pilgrims,  "  Come 
now  and  follow  me,  and  no  hurt  shall  happen  to  you  from  the  lions." 


"SO   THEY  STEPPED   BACK    AND   WENT    BEHIND.*' 


GIANT  GRIM. 


WELCOMED  AT  THE  HOUSE  BEAUTIFUL,  247 

They  pass  by  They  therefore  went  on,  but  the  women  trembled  as  they  passed  by 

the  Hons.  them ;  the  boys  also  looked  as  if  they  would  die ;   but  they  all  got  by 

without  further  hurt. 

Now,  when  they  were  within  sight  of  the  porter's  lodge,  they  soon  came  up  unto 
it ;  but  they  made  the  more  haste  after  this  to  go  thither,  because  it  is  dangerous 
They  come  to  travelling  there  in  the  night.     So  when  they  were  come  to  the  gate  the 
the  porter's  lodge.  gUide  knocked,  and  the  porter  cried,  "  Who  is  there?" 

But  as  soon  as  the  guide  had  said,  "  It  is  I,"  he  knew  his  voice  and  came  down, 
for  the  guide  had  oft  before  that  come  thither  as  a  conductor  of  pilgrims. 

When  he  was  come  down  he  opened  the  gate,  and  seeing  the  guide  standing  just 
before  it  (for  he  saw  not  the  women,  for  they  were  behind  him),  he  said  unto  him, 
"  How  now,  Mr.  Great-heart,  what  is  your  business  here  so  late  at  night  ?" 

"I  have  brought,"  said  he,  "some  pilgrims  hither,  where,  by  my  Lord's  com- 
mandment, they  must  lodge.  I  had  been  here  some  time  ago  had  I  not  been  opposed 
by  the  giant  that  did  use  to  back  the  lions.  But  I,  after  a  long  and  tedious  combat 
with  him,  have  cut  him  off,  and  have  brought  the  pilgrims  hither  in  safety." 

FOR.  Will  you  not  go  in  and  stay  till  morning? 
Great-heart  at-  GREAT.  No,  I  will  return  to  my  Lord  to-night. 

tempts  to  go  back.  CHR.  O  sir,  I  know  not  how  to  be  willing  you  should  leave  us  in  our 

pilgrimage.  You  have  been  so  faithful  and  so  loving  to  us,  you  have  fought  so  stoutly 
for  us,  you  have  been  so  hearty  in  counselling  of  us,  that  I  shall  never  forget  your 
favor  towards  us. 

The  pilgrims  Then  said  Mercy,  "  Oh,  that  we  might  have  thy  company  to  our  jour- 

implore    his  com-  111,-  rur 

pany  stiii.  ney  s  end  !    How  can  such  poor  women  as  we  hold  out  in  a  way  so  lull  or 

troubles  as  this  way  is,  without  a  friend  and  defender?" 

Then  said  James,  the  youngest  of  the  boys,  "  Pray,  sir,  be  persuaded  to  go  with 
us  and  help  us,  because  we  are  so  weak  and  the  way  so  dangerous  as  it  is." 

GREAT.  I  am  at  my  Lord's  commandments;  if  he  shall  allot  me  to  be  your  guide 
Help  mst  for  quite  through,  I  will  willingly  wait  upon  you.     But  here  you  failed  at 

wantofaski         r    ^^  _    ^  ^^  ^  ^   ^    cQme    ^^  ^  ^^  yo^  then  y(m  should  haye 

begged  me  of  him  to  have  gone  quite  through  with  you,  and  he  would  have  granted 
your  request.  However,  at  present  I  must  withdraw  ;  and  so,  good  Christiana,  Mercy, 
and  my  brave  children,  adieu. 

Then  the  porter,  Mr.  Watchful,  asked  Christiana  of  her  country  and  of  her  kin- 
dred. And  she  said,  "  I  came  from  the  city  of  Destruction.  I  am  a  widow  woman, 
and  my  husband  is  dead ;  his  name  was  Christian  the  pilgrim." 

"  How,"  said  the  porter,  "  was  he  your  husband  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  she,  "  and  these  are  his  children  ;  and  this,"  pointing  to  Mercy,  "  is 
one  of  my  townswomen." 

Then  the  porter  rang  his  bell,  as  at  such  times  he  was  wont,  and  there  came  to 
the  door  one  of  the  damsels,  whose  name  was  Humble-mind;  and  to  her  the  porter 
joy  at  the  news  said,  "  Go  tell  it  within  that  Christiana,  the  wife  of  Christian,  and  her 
pilgrim9'  children,  are  come  hither  on  pilgrimage."  She  went  in  therefore  and 


248  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

told  it.     But  oh,  what  noise  for  gladness  was  there  within  when  the  damsel  did  but 
drop  that  out  of  her  mouth  ! 

So  they  came  with  haste  to  the  porter,  for  Christiana  stood  still  at  the  door.  Then 
some  of  the  most  grave  said  unto  her,  "  Come  in,  Christiana,  come  in,  thou  wife  of 
that  good  man ;  come  in,  thou  blessed  woman,  come  in,  with  all  that  are  with  thee." 
So  she  went  in  and  they  followed  her  that  were  her  children  and  companions.  Now 
when  they  were  gone  in  they  were  had  into  a  large  room  where  they  were  bidden  tc 
sit  down ;  so  they  sat  down  and  the  chief  of  the  house  were  called  to  see  and  welcome 
the  guests.  Then  they  came  in,  and  understanding  who  they  were,  did  Christians'  love 
salute  each  other  with  a  kiss,  and  said,  "  Welcome,  ye  vessels  of  the  grace  ^g^^o^oue  an- 
of  God  ;  welcome  to  us,  your  friends."  other* 

Now,  because  it  was  somewhat  late,  and  because  the  pilgrims  were  weary  with 
their  journey,  and  also  made  faint  with  the  sight  of  the  fight  and  of  the  terrible  lions, 
they  desired,  as  soon  as  might  be,  to  prepare  to  go  to  rest. 

"  Nay,"  said  those  of  the  family,  "  refresh  yourselves  first  with  a  morsel  of  meat;" 
for  they  had  prepared  for  them  a  lamb,  with  the  accustomed  sauce  belonging  thereto, 
Exod.  12:21  ;  John  1:29;  for  the  porter  had  heard  before  of  their  coming,  and  had 
told  it  to  them  within.  So  when  they  had  supped  and  ended  their  prayer  with  a 
psalm,  they  desired  they  might  go  to  rest. 

"  But  let  us,"  said  Christiana,  "  if  we  may  be  so  bold  as  to  choose,  be  in  that  cham- 
ber that  was  my  husband's  when  he  was  here ;"  so  they  had  them  up  thither,  and  they 
all  lay  in  a  room.  When  they  were  at  rest,  Christiana  and  Mercy  entered  into  dis- 
course about  things  that  were  convenient. 

CHR.  Little  did  I  think  once,  when  my  husband  went  on  pilgrimage,  Christ's  bosom 
that  I  should  have  followed  him.  is  for  an  pilgrims. 

MER.  And  you  as  little  thought  of  lying  in  his  bed  and  in  his  chamber  to  rest,  as 
you  do  now. 

CHR.  And  much  less  did  I  ever  think  of  seeing  his  face  with  comfort,  and  of 
worshipping  the  Lord  the  King  with  him ;  and  yet  now  I  believe  I  shall. 

MER.  Hark  ;  do  n't  you  hear  a  noise  ? 

CHR.  Yes  ;  it  is,  as  I  believe,  a  noise  of  music,  for  joy  that  we  are  here.       Music. 

MER.  Wonderful!  Music  in  the  house,  music  in  the  heart,  and  music  also  in 
heaven,  for  joy  that  we  are  here. 

Thus  they  talked  a  while,  and  then  betook  themselves  to  sleep. 

So  in  the  morning  when  they  were  awake,  Christiana  said  to  Mercy,       Mercy  ]aughea 
"  What  was  the  matter,  that  you  did  laugh  in  your  sleep  to-night  ?    I  sup-  in  her  8leep* 
pose  you  were  in  a  dream." 

MER.  So  I  was,  and  a  sweet  dream  it  was ;  but  are  you  sure  I  laughed? 

CHR.  Yes,  you  laughed  heartily  ;  but  prithee,  Mercy,  tell  me  thy  dream. 

MER.  I  was  dreaming  that  I  sat  all  alone  in  a  solitary  place,  and  was     Mercy's  dream, 
bemoaning  of  the  hardness  of  my  heart.   Now  I  had  not  set  there  long  but  methought 
many  were  gathered  about  me  to  see  me  and  to  hear  what  it  was  that  I  said.     So  they 
hearkened,  and  I  went  on  bemoaning  the  hardness  of  my  heart.   At  this  some  of  them 


MERCY'S  COMFORTING  DREAM. 


249 


dream  was. 


laughed  at  me,  some  called  me  a  fool,  and 
some  began  to  thrust  me  about.  With  that, 
what  Mercys  methought   I  looked  up  and 
saw  one  coming  with  wings 
towards  me.     So  he  came  directly  to  me, 
and  said,  "  Mercy,  what  aileth  thee  ?" 

Now  when  he  had  heard  me  make 
my  complaint,  he  said, "  Peace  be  to  thee ;" 
he  also  wiped  my  eyes  with  his  handker- 
chief and  clad  me  in  silver  and  gold. 
Ezek.  16 :  8-1 1.  He  put  a  chain  about  my 
neck  and  ear-rings  in  my  ears  and  a 
beautiful  crown  upon  my  head.  Then  he 
took  me  by  the  hand,  and  said,  "  Mercy, 
come  after  me."  So  he  went  up,  and  I 
followed  till  we  came  at  a  golden  gate. 
Then  he  knocked,  and  when  they  within 
had  opened,  the  man  went  in,  and  I  fol- 
lowed him  up  to  a  throne,  upon  which 
one  sat ;  and  he  said  to  me,  "  Welcome, 
daughter."  The  place  looked  bright  and 
twinkling  like  the  stars,  or  rather  like  the 
sun,  and  I  thought  that  I  saw  your  hus- 
band there  ;  so  I  awoke  from  my  dream.  But  did  I  laugh  ? 

CHR.  Laugh  ?  Ay,  and  well  you  might  to  see  yourself  so  well.  For  you  must 
give  me  leave  to  tell  you  that  it  was  a  good  dream,  and  that  as  you  have  begun  to 
find  the  first  part  true,  so  you  shall  find  the  second  at  last.  "  God  speaks  once,  yea, 
twice,  yet  man  perceiveth  it  not ;  in  a  dream,  in  a  vision  of  the  night,  when  deep  sleep 
falleth  upon  men  in  slumberings  upon  the  bed."  Job  33: 14,  15.  We  need  not,  when 
abed,  to  lie  awake  to  talk  with  God ;  he  can  visit  us  while  we  sleep  and  cause  us  then 
to  hear  his  voice.  Our  heart  oftentimes  wakes  when  we  sleep,  and  God  can  speak  to 
that  either  by  words,  by  proverbs,  by  signs  and  similitudes,  as  well  as  if  one  was  awake. 
Mercy  giad  of  MER.  Well,  I  am  glad  of  my  dream  ;  for  I  hope  erelong  to  see  it  ful- 

her  dream.  fiUed>  tQ  the  making.  me  laugh  again. 

CHR.  I  think  it  is  now  high  time  to  rise  and  to  know  what  we  must  do. 

MER.  Pray,  if  they  invite  us  to  stay  a  while,  let  us  willingly  accept  of  the  proffer. 
I  am  the  more  willing  to  stay  a  while  here,  to  grow  better  acquainted  with  these  maids ; 
methinks  Prudence,  Piety,  and  Charity  have  very  comely  and  sober  countenances. 

CHR.  We  shall  see  what  they  will  do. 

So  when  they  were  up  and  ready,  they  came  down,  and  they  asked  one  another  of 
their  rest,  and  if  it  was  comfortable  or  not. 

"Very  good,"  said  Mercy;  "it  was  one  of  the  best  night's  lodgings  that  ever  I 
had  in  my  life." 

32 


"l  WENT  ON  BKMOANING  THE  HARDNESS  OF  MY  HEART." 


250  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

Then  said  Prudence  and  Piety,  "  If  you  will  be  persuaded  to  stay  here  a  while, 
you  shall  have  what  the  house  will  afford." 

"  Ay,  and  that  with  a  very  good  will,"  said  Charity.  They  stay  here 

So  they  consented  and  stayed  there  about  a  month  or  above,  and  be-  80me  tune> 
came  very  profitable  one  to  another.     And  because  Prudence  would  see  how  Chris- 
tiana had  brought  up  her  children,  she  asked  leave  of  her  to  catechize       prudence  desires 

to  catecliize  Chris- 

them.     So  she  gave  her  free  consent.  tiaua's  children. 

Then  she  began  with  the  youngest,  whose  name  was  James. 

PRUDENCE.     Come,  James,  canst  thou  tell  me  who  made  thee?  James  catechized. 

JAMES.  God  the  Father,  God  the  Son,  and  God  the  Holy  Ghost. 

PRUD.  Good  boy.     And  canst  thou  tell  me  who  saved  thee  ? 

JAMES.  God  the  Father,  God  the  Son,  and  God  the  Holy  Ghost. 

PRUD.  Good  boy  still.     But  how  doth  God  the  Father  save  thee  ? 

JAMES.  By  his  grace. 

PRUD.  How  doth  God  the  Son  save  thee? 

JAMES.  By  his  righteousness,  death  and  blood,  and  life. 

PRUD.  And  how  doth  God  the  Holy  Ghost  save  thee  ? 

JAMES.  By  his  illumination,  by  his  renovation,  and  by  his  preservation. 

Then  said  Prudence  to  Christiana,  "  You  are  to  be  commended  for  thus  bringing 
up  your  children.  I  suppose  I  need  not  ask  the  rest  these  questions,  since  the  young- 
est of  them  can  answer  them  so  well.  I  will  therefore  now  apply  myself  to  the  next 
youngest." 

Then  Prudence  said,  "Come,  Joseph,"  for  his  name  was  Joseph,  Joseph  catechized, 
"will  you  let  me  catechize  you?" 

JOSEPH.  With  all  my  heart. 

PRUD.  What  is  man  ? 

JOSEPH.  A  reasonable  creature,  so  made  by  God,  as  my  brother  said. 

PRUD.  What  is  supposed  by  this  word,  saved  ? 

JOSEPH.  That  man,  by  sin,  has  brought  himself  into  a  state  of  captivity  and 
misery. 

PRUD.  What  is  supposed  by  his  being  saved  by  the  Trinity  ? 

JOSEPH.  That  sin  is  so  great  and  mighty  a  tyrant  that  none  can  pull  us  out  of  its 
clutches  but  God ;  and  that  God  is  so  good  and  so  loving  to  man  as  to  pull  him  indeed 
out  of  this  miserable  state. 

PRUD.  What  is  God's  design  in  saving  poor  men  ? 

JOSEPH.  The  glorifying  of  his  name,  of  his  grace  and  justice,  etc.,  and  the  ever- 
lasting happiness  of  his  creature. 

PRUD.  Who  are  they  that  will  be  saved  ? 

JOSEPH.  They  that  accept  of  his  salvation. 

PRUD.  Good  boy,  Joseph ;  thy  mother  hath  taught  thee  well,  and  thou  hast  heark- 
ened unto  what  she  has  said  unto  thee. 

Then  said  Prudence  to  Samuel,  who  was  the  eldest  but  one,  "  Come,  samuei  catechized. 
Samuel,  are  you  willing  that  I  should  catechize  you  ?" 


252  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

SAMUEL.  Yes,  forsooth,  if  you  please. 

PRUD.  What  is  heaven  ? 

SAM.  A  place  and  state  most  blessed,  because  God  dwelleth  there. 

PRUD.  What  is  hell? 

SAM.  A  place  and  state  most  woful,  because  it  is  the  dwelling-place  of  sin,  the 
devil,  and  death. 

PRUD.  Why  wouldest  thou  go  to  heaven? 

SAM.  That  I  may  see  God  and  serve  him  without  weariness ;  that  I  may  sec 
Christ  and  love  him  everlastingly ;  that  I  may  have  that  fulness  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in 
me  which  I  can  by  no  means  here  enjoy. 

PRUD.  A  very  good  boy,  and  one  that  has  learned  well. 

Then  she  addressed  herself  to  the  eldest,  whose  name  was  Matthew ;  Matthew  catechized, 
and  she  said  to  him,  "  Come,  Matthew,  shall  I  also  catechize  you?" 

MATTHEW.  With  a  very  good  will. 

PRUD.  I  ask,  then,  if  there  was  ever  anything  that  had  a  being  antecedent  to  or 
before  God  ? 

MATT.  No,  for  God   is  eternal ;    nor  is  there  anything,  excepting       God  is  eternal 
himself,  that  had  a  being  until  the  beginning  of  the  first  day.      For  *? dan  Sfn^Cd 
in  six  days  the  Lord  made  heaven  and  earth,  the  sea,  and  all  that  in  f 
them  is. 

PRUD.  What  do  you  think  of  the  Bible  ? 

MATT.  It  is  the  holy  word  of  God. 

PRUD.  Is  there  nothing  written  therein  but  what  you  understand  ? 

MATT.  Yes,  a  great  deal. 

PRUD.  What  do  you  do  when  you  meet  with  places  therein  that  you  do  not  under- 
stand ? 

MATT.  I  think  God  is  wiser  than  I.  I  pray  also  that  he  will  please  to  let  me 
know  all  therein  that  he  knows  will  be  for  my  good. 

PRUD.  How  believe  you  as  touching  the  resurrection  of  the  dead  ? 

MATT.  I  believe  they  shall  rise  the  same  that  was  buried — the  same  In  nature, 
though  not  in  corruption.  And  I  believe  this  upon  a  double  account :  first,  because 
God  has  promised  it ;  secondly,  because  he  is  able  to  perform  it. 

Then  said  Prudence  to  the  boys,  "  You  must  still  hearken  to  your  mother ;  for  she 
can  teach  you  more.  You  must  also  diligently  give  ear  to  what  good  talk  PriKlence,s  con. 
you  shall  hear  from  others ;  for  your  sakes  do  they  speak  good  things.  ffiSSsffrf  tile 
Observe  also,  and  that  with  carefulness,  what  the  heavens  and  the  earth  l 
do  teach  you ;  but  especially  be  much  in  the  meditation  of  that  book  which  was  the 
cause  of  your  father's  becoming  a  pilgrim.  I,  for  my  part,  my  children,  will  teach 
you  what  I  can  while  you  are  here,  and  shall  be  glad  if  you  will  ask  me  questions  that 
tend  to  godly  edifying." 

Now  by  that  these  pilgrims  had  been  at  this  place  a  week,  Mercy  had  a  visitor 
that  pretended  some  good-will  unto  her,  and  his  name  was  Mr.  Brisk,  a  Mercy  has  a 
man  of  some  breeding,  and  that  pretended  to  religion,  but  a  man  that  sweetheart 


MERCY'S  SUITOR,  MR 


254 


PIL GRIM 'S  PROGRESS. 


stuck  very  close  to  the  world.  So  he  came  once  or  twice  or  more  to  Mercy  and 
offered  love  unto  her. 

Now  Mercy  was  of  a  fair  countenance,  and  therefore  the  more  alluring.  Her 
mind  also  was  to  be  always  busying  of  herself  in  doing ;  for  when  she  had  nothing  to 
do  for  herself,  she  would  be  making  hose  and  garments  for  others,  and  would  bestow 
them  upon  those  that  had  need.  And  Mr.  Brisk,  not  knowing  where  or  how  she  dis- 
posed of  what  she  made,  seemed  to  be  greatly  taken,  for  that  he  found  her  never  idle. 
"  I  will  warrant  her  a  good  housewife,"  quoth  he  to  himself. 

Mercv  then  revealed  the  business  to  the  maidens  that  were  of  the       Mercy  inquires 

J  ..............         of  the  maids  con- 

house,  and  inquired  of  them  concerning  him,  for  they  did  know  him  ceming  Mr.  Brisk, 
better  than  she.  So  they  told  her  that  he  was  a  very  busy  young  man,  and  one  who 
pretended  to  religion,  but  was,  as  they  feared,  a  stranger  to  the  power  of  that  which 
is  good. 

"  Nay,  then,"  said  Mercy,  "  I  will  look  no  more  on  him,  for  I  purpose  never  to 
have  a  clog  to  my  soul." 

Prudence  then  replied  that  there  needed  no  matter  of  great  discouragement  to  be 
given  to  him ;  her  continuing  so  as  she  had  begun  to  do  for  the  poor  would  quickly 
cool  his  courage. 

So  the  next  time  he  comes  he  finds  her  at  her  old  work,  making        Talk  between 

Mercy     and     Mr. 

things  for  the  poor.     Then  said  he,  "What,  always  at  it?"  unst. 

"Yes,"  said  she,  "either  for  myself  or  for  others," 

"And  what  canst  thou  earn  a  day?"  said  he. 

"  I  do  these  things,"  said  she,  "that  I  may  be  rich  in  good  works,  laying  up  in 
store  for  myself  a  good  foundation  against  the  time  to  come,  that  I  may  lay  hold  on 
eternal  life."  i  Tim.  6:  17-19. 

"  Why,  prithee,  what  doest  thou  with  them  ?"  said  he. 

"Clothe  the  naked,"  said  she.     With  that  his  countenance  fell.     So     He forsakes  her, 
he  forbore  to  come  at  her  again.     And  when  he  was  asked  the  reason  aildwhy- 
why,  he  said  that  Mercy  was  a  pretty  lass,  but  troubled  with  ill  conditions. 

When  he  had  left  her  Prudence  said,  "  Did  I  not  tell  thee  that  Mercy  m  the 
Mr.  Brisk  would  soon  forsake  thee  ?  Yea,  he  will  raise  up  an  ill  report  of  is  rejected,  while 

.  -11.  .  Mercy  in  the  name 

thee :  for,  notwithstanding  his  pretence  to  religion  and  his  seeming  love  of  mercy  is  iiked. 
to  Mercy,  yet  Mercy  and  he  are  of   tempers  so  different   that  I  believe  they  will 
never  come  together." 

MER.  I  might  have  had  husbands  before  now,  though  I  spoke  not  of  it  to  any ; 
but  they  were  such  as  did  not  like  my  conditions,  though  never  did  any  of  them  find 
fault  with  my  person.  So  they  and,  I  could  not  agree. 

PRUD.  Mercy  in  our  days  is  but  little  set  by  any  further  than  as  to  its  name: 
the  practice  which  is  set  forth  by  thy  conditions  there  are  but  few  that  can  abide. 

"Well,"  said  Mercy,  "if  nobody  will  have  me,  I  will  die  unmarried,      Mercy's  resoiu- 
or  my  conditions  shall  be  to  me  as  a  husband,  for  I  cannot  change  my  tlon- 
nature ;  and  to  have  one  who  lies  cross  to  me  in  this,  that  I  purpo.se  never  to  admit 
of  as  long  as  I  live.     I  had  a  sister  named  Bountiful  that  was  married  to  one  of  these 


MR.  SKILL,   AN  ANCIENT  AND  WELL-APPROVED  PHYSICIAN. 


256  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

churls,  but  he  and  she  could  never  agree ;  but  because  my  sister  was  resolved  tc 
do  as  she  had  begun,  that  is.  to  show  kindness  to  the  poor,  therefore         HOW  Mercy's 

.  sister  was  served 

her  husband  first  cried  her  down  at  the  cross  and  then  turned  her  out  of  by  uer  husband. 
his  doors." 

PRUD.  And  yet  he  was  a  professor,  I  warrant  you. 

MER.  Yes,  such  a  one  as  he  was,  and  of  such  as  he  the  world  is  now  full ;  but  I 
am  for  none  of  them  all. 

Now  Matthew,  the  eldest  son  of  Christiana,  fell  sick,  and  his  sickness  Matthew  fans 
was  sore  upon  him,  for  he  was  much  pained  in  his  bowels,  so  that  he  was  sick- 
with  it  at  times  pulled  as  it  were  both  ends  together.  There  dwelt  also  not  far  from 
thence  one  Mr.  Skill,  an  ancient  and  well-approved  physician.  So  Christiana  desired 
it  and  they  sent  for  him  and  he  came.  When  he  was  entered  the  room  and  had  a 
little  observed  the  boy  he  concluded  that  he  was  sick  of  the  gripes.  Gl.ipes  of  con. 
Then  he  said  to  his  mother,  "  What  diet  has  Matthew  of  late  fed  upon  ?" 

"  Diet?"  said  Christiana,     " Nothing  but  what  is  wholesome." 

The  physician  answered,  "  This  boy  has  been  tampering  with  some-      T1,e  pnysiclan>8 
thing  that  lies  in  his  stomach  undigested,  and  that  will  not  away  without  JU(1smeut- 
means.     And  I  tell  you  he  must  be  purged  or  else  he  will  die." 

Then  said  Samuel,  "  Mother,  what  was  that  which  my  brother  did 

»  &U,milCI    plllS    IllS 

gather  up  and  eat  as  soon  as  we  were  come  from  the  gate  that  is  at  the  jjj0*^  ^"^ 
head  of  this  way  ?    You  know  that  there  was  an  orchard  on  the  left  hand  brother  did  eat> 
on  the  other  side  of  the  wall,  and  some  of  the  trees  hung  over  the  wall,  and  my 
brother  did  pluck  and  eat." 

"  True,  my  child,"  said  Christiana,  "  he  did  take  thereof  and  did  eat :  naughty 
boy  as  he  was,  I  chid  him,  and  yet  he  would  eat  thereof." 

SKILL.  I  knew  he  had  eaten  something  that  was  not  wholesome  food ;  and  that 
food,  to  wit,  that  fruit,  is  even  the  most  hurtful  of  all.  It  is  the  fruit  of  Beelzebub's 
orchard.  I  do  marvel  that  none  did  warn  you  of  it ;  many  have  died  thereof. 

Then  Christiana  began  to  cry ;  and  she  said,  "  Oh,  naughty  boy !  and,  oh,  care- 
less mother !  What  shall  I  do  for  my  son  ?" 

SKILL.  Come,  do  not  be  too  much  dejected ;  the  boy  may  do  well  again,  but  he 
must  purge  and  vomit. 

CHR.  Pray,  sir,  try  the  utmost  of  your  skill  with  him,  whatever  it  costs. 

SKILL.  Nay,  I  hope  I  shall  be  reasonable. 

So  he  made  him  a  purge,  but  it  was  too  weak ;  it  was  said  it  was  made  of  the 
blood  of  a  goat,  the  ashes  of  a  heifer,  and  some  of  the  juice  of  hyssop.  Heb.  9:13,  19 ; 
10:1-4.  When  Mr.  Skill  had  seen  that  that  purge  was  too  weak  he  The  Latin  i 
made  one  to  the  purpose.  It  was  made  ex  carne  et  sanguine  Christi* 
John  6:54-57;  Heb.  9:14  (you  know  physicians  give  strange  medicine  to  their 
patients):  and  it  was  made  into  pills  with  a  promise  or  two  and  a  proportionate 
quantity  of  salt.  Mark  9 : 49.  Now,  he  was  to  take  them  three  at  a  time,  fasting,  in 
half  a  quarter  of  a  pint  of  the  tears  of  repentance.  Zech.  12 : 10. 

*  Of  the  flesh  and  blood  of  Christ. 


THE  UNIVERSAL  REMEDY.  257 

The  boy  loath  When  the  potion  was  prepared  and  brought  to  the  boy  he  was  loath 

to  take  the  physic.    to  take  ^  though  torn  with  the  gripes  ag  if  he  should  be  pulled  to  pieces. 

"Come,  come,"  said  the  physician,  "you  must  take  it." 

"  It  goes  against  my  stomach,"  said  the  boy. 

"  I  must  have  you  take  it,"  said  his  mother. 

"  I  shall  vomit  it  up  again,"  said  the  boy. 

"  Pray,  sir,"  said  Christiana  to  Mr.  Skill,  "how  does  it  taste?" 

"  It  has  no  ill  taste,"  said  the  doctor;  and  with  that  she  touched  one  of  the  pills 

The  mother  with  the  tip  of  her  tongue. 

tastes  it  and  per-  .  .. 

suadesMm.  "Oh,  Matthew,     said  she,  "this  potion  is  sweeter  than  honey.     If 

thou  lovest  thy  mother,  if  thou  lovest  thy  brothers,  if  thou  lovest  Mercy,  if  thou  lovest 
thy  life,  take  it."  So  with  much  ado,  after  a  short  prayer  for  the  blessing  of  God 
upon  it,  he  took  it,  and  it  wrought  kindly  with  him.  It  caused  him  to  purge;  it 
caused  him  to  sleep  and  to  rest  quietly ;  it  put  him  into  a  fine  heat  and  breathing 
A  word  of  God  sweat,  and  did  quite  rid  him  of  his  gripes.  So  in  a  little  time  he  got  up 

in    the    hand     of 

faith.  and  walked  about  with  a  staff,  and  would  go  from  room  to  room  and  talk 

with  Prudence,  Piety,  and  Charity  of  his  distemper  and  how  he  was  healed. 

So  when  the  boy  was  healed,  Christiana  asked  Mr.  Skill,  saying,  "  Sir,  what  will 
content  you  for  your  pains  and  care  to  and  of  my  child  ?" 

And  he  said,  "  You  must  pay  the  Master  of  the  College  of  Physicians,  Heb. 
13  :  11-15,  according  to  rules  made  in  that  case  and  provided." 

"  But,  sir,"  said  Christiana,  "  what  is  this  pill  good  for  else?" 

The  pin  a  uni-          SKILL.  It  is  a  universal  pill ;  it  is  good  against  all  the  diseases  that 
pilgrims  are  incident  to ;  and  when  it  is  well  prepared  it  will  keep  good 
time  out  of  mind. 

CHR.  Pray,  sir,  make  me  up  twelve  boxes  of  them,  for  if  I  get  these  I  will  never 
take  other  physic. 

SKILL.  These  pills  are  good  to  prevent  diseases  as  well  as  to  cure  when  one  is 
sick.  Yea,  I  dare  say  it,  and  stand  to  it,  that  if  a  man  will  but  use  this  physic  as  he 
should,  it  will  make  him  live  for  ever.  John  6:51.  But,  good  Christiana,  thou  must 
give  these  pills  no  other  way  but  as  I  have  prescribed  ;  for  if  you  do  they  will  do  no 
good. 

So  he  gave  unto  Christiana  physic  for  herself  and  her  boys  and  for  Mercy ;  and 
bid  Matthew  take  heed  how  he  ate  any  more  green  plums;  and  kissed  them  and 
went  his  way. 

It  was  told  you  before  that  Prudence  bid  the  boys,  that  if  at  any  time  they  would, 
they  should  ask  her  some  questions  that  might  be  profitable,  and  she  would  say  some- 
thing to  them. 

Then   Matthew,  who  had  been  sick,  asked   her  why  for  the  most  part  physic 
of  physic.      should  be  bitter  to  our  palates. 

PRUD.  To  show  how  unwelcome  the  Word  of  God  and  the  effects  thereof  are  to 
a  carnal  heart. 

MATT.  Why  does  physic,  if  it  does  good,  purge  and  cause  to  vomit? 

33 


258  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

PRUD.  To  show  that  the  Word,  when  it  works  effectually,  cleanse th  the  heart 
and  mind.  For  look,  what  the  one  doth  to  the  body  the  other  doth  to  the  soul. 

MATT.  What  should  we  learn  by  seeing  the  flame  of  our  fire  go  up-       of  flre  and  Ol 
wards,  and  by  seeing  the  beams  and  sweet  influences  of  the  sun  strike  tllc  sun- 
downwards  ? 

PRUD.  By  the  going  up  of  the  fire  we  are  taught  to  ascend  to  heaven  by  fervent 
and  hot  desires.  And  by  the  sun  sending  his  heat,  beams,  and  sweet  influences 
downwards,  we  are  taught  that  the  Saviour  of  the  world,  though  high,  reaches  down 
with  his  grace  and  love  to  us  below. 

MATT.  Whence  have  the  clouds  their  water  ?  ortiieciouds. 

PRUD.  Out  of  the  sea. 

MATT.  What  may  we  learn  from  that  ? 

PRUD.  That  ministers  should  fetch  their  doctrine  from  God. 

MATT.  Why  do  they  empty  themselves  upon  the  earth  ? 

PRUD.  To  show  that  ministers  should  give  out  what  they  know  of  God  to  the  world. 

MATT.  Why  is  the  rainbow  caused  by  the  sun  ?  or  uie  rainbow. 

PRUD.  To  show  that  the  covenant  of  God's  grace  is  confirmed  to  us  in  Christ. 

MATT.  Why  do  the  springs  come  from  the  sea  to  us  through  the     or  tne  springs. 
earth  ? 

PRUD.  To  show  that  the  grace  of  God  comes  to  us  through  the  body  of  Christ. 

MATT.  Why  do  some  of  the  springs  rise  out  of  the  tops  of  high  hills  ? 

PRUD.  To  show  that  the  Spirit  of  grace  shall  spring  up  in  some  that  are  great 
and  mighty  as  well  as  in  many  that  are  poor  and  low. 

MATT.  Why  doth  the  fire  fasten  upon  the  candle-wick  ?  or  the  canaie. 

PRUD.  To  show  that  unless  grace  doth  kindle  upon  the  heart  there  will  be  no 
true  light  of  life  in  us. 

MATT.  Why  are  the  wick  and  tallow  and  all  spent  to  maintain  the  light  of  the 
candle  ? 

PRUD.  To  show  that  body  and  soul  and  all  should  be  at  the  service  of,  and  spend 
themselves  to  maintain  in  good  condition,  that  grace  of  God  that  is  in  us. 

MATT.  Why  doth  the  pelican  pierce  her  own  breast  with  her  bill  ?          or  tiie  pelican. 

PRUD.  To  nourish  her  young  ones  with  her  blood,  and  thereby  to  show  that 
Christ  the  blessed  so  loved  his  young  (his  people)  as  to  save  them  from  death  by  his 
blood. 

MATT.  What  may  one  learn  by  hearing  the  cock  crow?  or  the  cock. 

PRUD.  Learn  to  remember  Peter's  sin  and  Peter's  repentance.  The  cock's  crow- 
ing shows  also  that  day  is  coming  on :  let  then  the  crowing  of  the  cock  put  thee  in 
mind  of  that  last  and  terrible  day  of  judgment. 

Now  about  this  time  their  month  was  out ;  wherefore  they  signified  to  those  of 
the  house  that  it  was  convenient  for  them  to  up  and  be  going.     Then       The  weak  may 
said  Joseph  to  his  mother,  "  It  is  proper  that  you  forget  not  to  send  to  the  tiTeti™rong  °ato 
house  of  Mr.   Interpreter,  to  pray  him   to  grant  that   Mr.  Great-heart  Prarers- 
should  be  sent  unto  us,  that  he  may  be  our  conductor  for  the  rest  of  the  way." 


MORE  WONDERS  SHOWN.  259 

"  Good  boy,"  said  she  ;  "  I  had  almost  forgot." 

So  she  drew  up  a  petition  and  prayed  Mr.  Watchful,  the  porter,  to  send  it  by 
some  fit  man  to  her  good  friend,  Mr.  Interpreter  ;  who,  when  it  was  come  and  he  had 
seen  the  contents  of  the  petition,  said  to  the  messenger,  "  Go  tell  them  that  I  will 
send  him." 

When  the  family  where  Christiana  was  saw  that  they  had  a  purpose  to  go  for- 

ey  provide  ward,  they  called  the  whole  house  together,  to  give  thanks  to  their  King 


way.  for  sending  of  them  such  profitable  guests  as  these.     Which  done,  they 

said  unto  Christiana,  "And  shall  we  not  show  thee  something,  as  our  custom  is  to  do 
to  pilgrims,  on  which  thou  mayest  meditate  when  thou  art  upon  the  way?"  So  they 
took  Christiana,  her  children,  and  Mercy  into  the  closet  and  showed  them  one  of  the 
Eve's  apple,  apples  that  Eve  ate  of,  and  that  she  also  did  give  to  her  husband,  and 
that  for  the  eating  of  which  they  were  both  turned  out  of  paradise,  and  asked  her 
what  she  thought  that  was. 

A  sight  of  sin  Then  Christiana  said,  "  It  is  food  or  poison,  I  know  not  which."  So 
is  amazing.  ^y  Opene<j  the  matter  to  her  and  she  held  up  her  hands  and  wondered. 
Gen.  3:6;  Rom.  7  :  24. 

Jacob's  ladder.  Then  they  had  her  to  a  place  and  showed  her  Jacob's  ladder.     Gen. 

28:  12.  Now  at  that  time  there  were  some  angels  ascending  upon  it.  So  Christiana 
looked  and  looked  to  see  the  angels  go  up  :  so  did  the  rest  of  the  company.  Then 
they  were  going  into  another  place  to  show  them  something  else  ;  but  James  said  to 
A  sight  or  his  mother,  "  Pray,  bid  them  stay  here  a  little  longer,  for  this  is  a  curious 
chnst  is  taking,  sight."  So  they  turned  again  and  stood  feeding  their  eyes  with  this  so 
pleasant  a  prospect. 

The  golden          After  this  they  had  them  into  a  place  where  did  hang  up  a  golden 

anchor.     So  they  bid  Christiana  take  it  down  ;  for  said  they,  "  You  shall 

have  it  with  you,  for  it  is  of  absolute  necessity  that  you  should,  that  you  may  lay 

hold  of  that  within  the  veil,  Heb.  6:  19,  and  stand  steadfast  in  case  you  should  meet 

with  turbulent  weather,"  Joel  3  :  16;  so  they  were  glad  thereof. 

Then  they  took  them  and  had  them  to  the  mount  upon  which  Abraham  our 
of  Abraham  of-  father  offered  up  Isaac  his  son,  and  showed  them  the  altar,  the  wood,  the 
fenng  up  Isaac.  gre^  an(^  ^g  knjf  e>  f  or  they  remain  to  be  seen  to  this  very  day.  Gen. 
22:9.  When  they  had  seen  it  they  held  up  their  hands  and  blessed  themselves,  and 
said,  "  Oh,  what  a  man  for  love  to  his  Master  and  for  denial  to  himself  was 
Abraham  !" 

After  they  had  showed  them  all  these  things,  Prudence  took  them  into  a  dining- 
prudence's  ro°m>  where  stood  a  pair  of  excellent  virginals;*  so  she  played  upon 
virginals.  them,  and  turned  what  she  had  showed  them  into  this  excellent  song, 

saying, 

"  Eve's  apple  we  have  showed  you  ; 

Of  that  be  you  aware  : 
You  have  seen  Jacob's  ladder  too, 

Upon  which  angels  are. 
*  A  musical  instrument. 


26o  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

An  anchor  you  received  have  ; 

But  let  not  these  suffice, 
Until  with  Abraham  you  give 

Your  best  a  sacrifice." 

Now  about  this  time  one  knocked  at  the  door ;  so  the  porter  opened,  and  behold 
Mr.   Great-heart  was  there.      But  when  he  was  come  in  what  joy  was      Ml.  Great.heart 
there!  for  it  came  now  afresh  again  into  their  minds  how  but  awhile  comesaKain- 
ago  he  had  slain  old  Grim  Bloodyman  the  giant  and  had  delivered  them  from  the 
lions. 

Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart  to  Christiana  and  to  Mercy,  "  My  Lord  has       ne  brings  a  to 
sent  each  of  you  a  bottle  of  wine,  and  also  some  parched  corn,  together  mta  wm.  "s 
with  a  couple  of  pomegranates ;  he  has  also  sent  the  boys  some  figs  and  raisins ;  to 
refresh  you  in  your  way." 

Then  they  addressed  themselves  to  their  journey,  and  Prudence  and  Piety  went 
along  with  them.  When  they  came  to  the  gate  Christiana  asked  the  porter  if  any 
of  late  went  by.  He  said,  "  No ;  only  one  some  time  since,  who  also  told  me  that  of 
late  there  had  been  a  great  robbery  committed  on  the  King's  highway  as  you  go. 
But,"  said  he,  "  the  thieves  are  taken  and  will  shortly  be  tried  for  their  lives." 

Then  Christiana  and  Mercy  were  afraid;  but  Matthew  said,  "  Mother,  fear  nothing, 
as  long  as  Mr.  Great-heart  is  to  go  with  us  and  to  be  our  conductor." 

Then  said  Christiana  to  the  porter,  "  Sir,  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  all  the 
kindnesses  that  you  have  showed  to  me  since  I  came  hither,  and  also  Christiana  takes 

,       .  ..,.-,  -.-IT  Ti  ner  leave   of  the 

for  that  you  have  been  so  loving  and  kind  to  my  children.     I  know  not  porter. 

how  to  gratify  your  kindness;  wherefore,  pray,  as  a  token  of  my  respect  to  you, 

accept  of  this  small  mite." 

So  she  put  a  gold  angel  in  his  hand ;  and  he  made  her  a  low  obeisance,  and  said, 
"  Let  thy  garments  be  always  white ;  and  let  thy  head  want  no  ointment."  The  porter,8 
Eccl.  9:8.  "  Let  Mercy  live  and  not  die,  and  let  not  her  works  be  few."  bleS8ms- 
Deut.  33:6.  And  to  the  boys  he  said,  "  Do  you  fly  youthful  lusts,  and  follow  after 
godliness  with  them  that  are  grave  and  wise,  2  Tim.  2  :  22  ;  so  shall  you  put  gladness 
into  your  mother's  heart  and  obtain  praise  of  all  that  are  sober-minded."  So  they 
thanked  the  porter  and  departed. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  HUMILIATION.  261 


THE  SIXTH  STAGE. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  they  went  forward  until  they  were  come  to  the 
brow  of  the  hill,  where  Piety,  bethinking  herself,  cried  out,  "Alas,  I  have  forgot  what 
I  intended  to  bestow  upon  Christiana  and  her  companions :  I  will  go  back  and  fetch 
it."  So  she  ran  and  fetched  it.  While  she  was  gone,  Christiana  thought  she  heard  in 
a  grove  a  little  way  off  on  the  right  hand  a  most  curious  melodious  note,  with  words 

much  like  these : 

"Through  all  my  life  thy  favor  is 

So  frankly  showed  to  me 
That  in  thy  house  for  evermore 
My  dwelling-place  shall  be." 

And  listening  still  she  thought  she  heard  another  answer  it,  saying, 

"For  why?    The  Lord  our  God  is  good  ; 

His  mercy  is  for  ever  sure  ; 
His  truth  at  all  times  firmly  stood, 
And  shall  from  age  to  age  endure." 

So  Christiana  asked  Prudence  who  it  was  that  made  those  curious  notes.  Song 
2:11,  12.  "They  are,"  answered  she,  "our  country  birds:  they  sing  these  notes  but 
seldom,  except  it  be  at  the  spring  when  the  flowers  appear  and  the  sun  shines  warm, 
and  then  you  may  hear  them  all  day  long.  I  often,"  said  she,  "  go  out  to  hear  them ; 
we  also  ofttimes  keep  them  tame  in  our  house.  They  are  very  fine  company  for  us 
when  we  are  melancholy ;  also  they  make  the  woods  and  groves  and  solitary  places, 
places  desirable  to  be  in." 

piety  bestoweth  By  this  time  Piety  was  come  again.     So  she  said  to  Christiana, 

something  on  them  . 

at  parting.  "  Look  here  ;  I  have  brought  thee  a  scheme  of  all  those  things  that  thou 

hast  seen  at  our  house  upon  which  thou  mayest  look  when  thou  findest  thyself  forget- 
ful, and  call  those  again  to  remembrance  for  thy  edification  and  comfort." 

Now  they  began  to  go  down  the  hill  into  the  valley  of  Humiliation.  It  was  a 
steep  hill,  and  the  way  was  slippery ;  but  they  were  very  careful,  so  they  got  down 
pretty  well.  When  they  were  down  in  the  valley,  Piety  said  to  Christiana,  "  This  is 
the  place  where  Christian,  your  husband,  met  with  the  foul  fiend  Apollyon,  and  where 
they  had  that  dreadful  fight  that  they  had.  I  know  you  cannot  but  have  heard 
thereof.  But  be  of  good  courage ;  as  long  as  you  have  here  Mr.  Great-heart  to  be 
your  guide  and  conductor,  we  hope  you  will  fare  the  better."  So  when  these  two  had 
committed  the  pilgrims  unto  the  conduct  of  their  guide,  he  went  forward  and  they 
went  after. 
Mr.  Great-heart  Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  "  We  need  not  be  so  afraid  of  this  valley, 

at    the    valley   of     ...  .  _      . 

Humiliation.          for  here  is  nothing  to  hurt  us  unless  we  procure  it  to  ourselves.     It  is 
true  Christian  did  here  meet  with  Apollyon,  with  whom  he  also  had  a  sore  combat ; 


262 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


•*>, 


reason  wliy 


but  that  fray  was  the  fruit  of  those  slips  which  he  got  in  his  going  down  the  hill  ;  foi 
they  that  get  slips  there  must  look  for  combats  here.    And  hence  it  is  that  this  valley 

has  got  so  hard  a  name.  For  the  common 
people,  when  they  hear  that  some  fright- 
ful thing  has  befallen  such  a  one  in  such 
a  place,  are  of  the  opinion  that  that  place 
is  haunted  with  some  foul  fiend  or  evil 
spirit,  when,  alas,  it  is  for  the  fruit  of 
their  own  doing  that  such 
things  do  befall  them  there. 
This  valley  of  Humiliation  is  of  Humiliatio»- 
of  itself  as  fruitful  a  place  as  any  the  crow 
flies  over  ;  and  I  am  persuaded  if  we  could 
hit  upon  it,  we  might  find  somewhere 
hereabouts  something  that  might  give  us 
an  account  why  Christian  was  so  hardly 
beset  in  this  place." 

Then  said  James  to  his  mother,  "  Lo, 
yonder  stands  a  pillar,  and  it  looks  as  if 
something  was  written  thereon  ;  let  us  go 
and  see  what  it  is."  So  they  A  pillar  with  an 
went,  and  found  there  writ-  insci»n  «i'on  jt- 
ten,  "  Let  Christian's  slips  before  he  came 
hither,  and  the  battles  that  he  met  with  in 


IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  HUMILIATION. 


this  place,  be  a  warning  to  those  that  come 

after." 

"  Lo,"  said  their  guide,  "  did  not  I  tell  you  that  there  was  something  hereabouts 
that  would  give  intimation  of  the  reason  why  Christian  was  so  hard  beset  in  this 
place  ?"  Then  turning  himself  to  Christiana,  he  said,  "  No  disparagement  to  Christian 
more  than  to  any  others  whose  hap  and  lot  it  was.  For  it  is  easier  going  up  than 
down  this  hill,  and  that  can  be  said  but  of  few  hills  in  all  these  parts  of  the  world. 
But  we  will  leave  the  good  man  ;  he  is  at  rest.  He  also  had  a  brave  victory  over  his 
enemy.  Let  Him  grant,  that  dwelleth  above,  that  we  fare  no  worse,  when  we  come 
to  be  tried,  than  he. 

"  But  we  will  come  again  to  this  valley  of  Humiliation.  It  is  the  This  valley  a 
best  and  most  fruitful  piece  of  ground  in  all  these  parts.  It  is  fat  ground,  brave  place- 
and,  as  you  see,  consisteth  much  in  meadows ;  and  if  a  man  was  to  come  here  in  the 
summer-time,  as  we  do  now,  if  he  knew  not  anything  before  thereof,  and  if  he  also 
delighted  himself  in  the  sight  of  his  eyes,  he  might  see  that  which  would  be  delight- 
ful to  him.  Behold  how  green  this  valley  is,  also  how  beautiful  with  lilies.  Song  2:1. 
I  have  known  many  laboring  men  that  have  got  good  estates  in  this  valley  of  Humil- 
iation ;  for  God  resisteth  the  proud,  but  giveth  grace  to  the  humble.  Men  thrive  m 
James  4:6;  i  Pet.  5:5.  Indeed,  it  is  a  very  fruitful  soil,  and  doth  bring  mutation. 


"AND  AS  HE  SAT  BY  HIMSELF  HE  SANG.; 


264  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

forth  by  handfuls.  Some  also  have  wished  that  the  next  way  to  their  Father's  house 
were  here,  that  they  might  be  troubled  no  more  with  either  hills  or  mountains  to  go 
over ;  but  the  way  is  the  way,  and  there  is  an  end." 

Now,  as  they  were  going  along  and  talking,  they  espied  a  boy  feeding  his  father's 
sheep.  The  boy  was  in  very  mean  clothes,  but  of  a  fresh  and  well-favored  counte- 
nance ;  and  as  he  sat  by  himself  he  sung. 

"  Hark,"  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  "  to  what  the  shepherd's  boy  saith." 

So  they  hearkened,  and  he  said, 

"  He  that  is  down,  needs  fear  no  fall ; 

He  that  is  low,  no  pride  : 
He  that  is  humble,  ever  shall 
Have  God  to  be  his  guide. 

"I  am  content  with  what  I  have, 

Little  be  it  or  much  ; 
And,  Lord,  contentment  still  I  crave, 
Because  thou  savest  such. 

"Fulness  to  such  a  burden  is 

That  go  on  pilgrimage ; 
Here  little,  and  hereafter  bliss, 
Is  best  from  age  to  age." 

Then  said  the  guide,  "  Do  you  hear  him  ?  I  will  dare  to  say  this  boy  lives  a 
merrier  life,  and  wears  more  of  that  herb  called  heart's-ease  in  his  bosom,  than  he 
that  is  clad  in  silk  and  velvet.  But  we  will  proceed  in  our  discourse. 

"  In  this  valley  our  Lord  formerly  had  his  country-house.  He  loved  cimst,  when  in 
much  to  be  here.  He  loved  also  to  walk  these  meadows,  for  he  found  counn-y-iioii.se  \\\ 

the  valley  of  Hu- 

the  air  was  pleasant.  Besides,  here  a  man  shall  be  free  from  the  noise  mmation. 
and  from  the  hurryings  of  this  life.  All  states  are  full  of  noise  and  confusion  ;  only 
the  valley  of  Humiliation  is  that  empty  and  solitary  place.  Here  a  man  shall  not  be 
so  let  and  hindered  in  his  contemplation  as  in  other  places  he  is  apt  to  be.  This  is  a 
valley  that  nobody  walks  in  but  those  that  love  a  pilgrim's  life.  And  though  Chris- 
tian had  the  hard  hap  to  meet  here  with  Apollyon,  and  to  enter  with  him  in  a  brisk 
encounter,  yet  I  must  tell  you  that  in  former  times  men  have  met  with  angels  here, 
Hosea  12:4,  5,  have  found  pearls  here,  Matt.  13  146,  and  have  in  this  place  found  the 
words  of  life,  Prov.  8:35. 

"  Did  I  say  our  Lord  had  here  in  former  days  his  country-house,  and  that  he  loved 
here  to  walk  ?  I  will  add  that  in  this  place,  and  to  the  people  that  love  and  trace 
these  grounds,  he  has  left  a  yearly  revenue,  to  be  faithfully  paid  them  at  certain 
seasons,  for  their  maintenance  by  the  way,  and  for  their  further  encouragement  to  go 
on  in  their  pilgrimage." 

Now,  as  they  went  on,  Samuel  said  to  Mr.  Great-heart,  "  Sir,  I  perceive  that  in 
this  valley  my  father  and  Apollyon  had  their  battle;  but  whereabout  was  the  fight? 
for  I  perceive  this  valley  is  large." 

QREAT.  Your  father  had  the  battle  with  Apollyon  at  a  place  yonder  before  us,  in 


CHRISTIAN'S  BA  TTLE-GRO UND.  265 

Forgetful  green,  a  narrow  passage,  just  beyond  Forgetful  green.  And  indeed  that  place 
is  the  most  dangerous  place  in  all  these  parts.  For  if  at  any  time  pilgrims  meet  with 
any  brunt,  it  is  when  they  forget  what  favors  they  have  received  and  how  unworthy 
they  are  of  them.  This  is  the  place  also  where  others  have  been  hard  put  to  it.  But 
more  of  the  place  when  we  are  come  to  it ;  for  I  persuade  myself  that  to  this  day  there 
remains  either  some  sign  of  the  battle  or  some  monument  to  testify  that  such  a  battle 
there  was  fought. 

Humility  a  sweet  Then  said  Mercy,  "  I  think  I  am  as  well  in  this  valley  as  I  have  been 
anywhere  else  in  all  our  journey ;  the  place,  methinks,  suits  with  my 
spirit.  I  love  to  be  in  such  places,  where  there  is  no  rattling  with  coaches  nor  rumbling 
with  wheels.  Methinks  here  one  may,  without  much  molestation,  be  thinking  what 
he  is,  whence  he  came,  what  he  has  done,  and  to  what  the  King  has  called  him.  Here 
one  may  think  and  break  at  heart  and  melt  in  one's  spirit,  until  one's  eyes  become  as 
the  fish-pools  in  Heshbon.  Song  7 : 4.  They  that  go  rightly  through  this  valley  of 
Baca  make  it  a  well ;  the  rain  that  God  sends  down  from  heaven  upon  them  that  are 
here  also  filleth  the  pools.  This  valley  is  that  from  whence  also  the  King  will  give 
to  his  their  vineyards ;  and  they  that  go  through  it  shall  sing,  as  Christian  did,  for  all 
he  met  with  Apollyon."  Psa.  84 :  5-7  ;  Hosea  2:15. 

GREAT.  'Tis  true;  I  have  gone  through  this  valley  many  a  time,  and  never 
was  better  than  when  here.  I  have  also  been  a  conductor  to  several  pilgrims 
and  they  have  confessed  the  same.  "To  this  man  will  I  look,"  saith  the  King, 
"even  to  him  that  is  poor  and  of  a  contrite  spirit  and  trembleth  at  my  word." 
Isa.  66 : 2. 

Now  they  were  come  to  the  place  where  the  aforementioned  battle  was  fought. 

rue  place  where  Then  said  the  guide  to  Christiana,  her  children,  and  Mercy,  "  This  is  the 

Christian  and  the       ,  ,   .  J 

tien.i  did  fight.  place ;  on  this  ground  Christian  stood,  and  up  there  came  Apollyon 
against  him.  And  look,  did  I  not  tell  you  ?  here  is  some  of  your  husband's  blood  upon 
these  stones  to  this  day.  Behold,  also,  how  here  and  there  are  yet  to  be  seen  upon  the 
places  some  of  the  shivers  of  Apollyon's  broken  darts.  See,  also,  how  they  did  beat 
the  ground  with  their  feet  as  they  fought,  to  make  good  their  places  against  each 
somesi^nsof  other ;  how  also  with  their  by-blows  they  did  split  the  very  stones  in 
the  battle  remain.  pjeceS-  Verily,  Christian  did  here  play  the  man,  and  showed  himself  as 
stout  as  Hercules  could,  had  he  been  here,  even  he  himself.  When  Apollyon  was 
beat,  he  made  his  retreat  to  the  next  valley,  that  is  called  the  valley  of  the  Shadow 
A  monument  of  °^  Death,  unto  which  we  shall  come  anon.  Lo,  yonder  also  stands  a  mon- 
christian's victory.  ument,  on  which  is  engraven  this  battle  and  Christian's  victory,  to  his 
fame  throughout  all  ages." 

So  because  it  stood  just  on  the  wayside  before  them,  they  stepped  to  it  and  read 
the  writing,  which  word  for  word  was  this : 

"  Hard  by  here  was  a  battle  fought, 
Most  strange  and  yet  most  true; 
Christian  and  Apollyon  sought 
*  Each  other  to  subdue. 

34 


266  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

The  man  so  bravely  played  the  man, 

He  made  the  fiend  to  fly  ; 
Of  which  a  monument  I  stand, 

The  same  to  testify." 

When  they  had  passed  by  this  place  they  came  upon  the  borders  of  the  Shadow 
of  Death.  This  valley  was  longer  than  the  other,  a  place  also  most  strangely  haunted 
with  evil  things,  as  many  are  able  to  testify :  but  these  women  and  children  went  the 
better  through  it  because  they  had  daylight  and  because  Mr.  Great-heart  was  their 
conductor. 

When  they  were  entered  upon  this  valley  they  thought  they  heard  a  oroamngs 

groaning  as  of  dying  men,  a  very  great  groaning.     They  thought  also     hear(L 
that  they  did  hear  words  of  lamentation  spoken  as  of  some  in  extreme  torment. 
These  things  made  the  boys  to  quake ;  the  women  also  looked  pale  and  wan,  but  their 
guide  bid  them  to  be  of  good  comfort. 

So  they  went  on  a  little  further,  and   they  thought  they  felt  the          The  groun(1 
ground  begin  to  shake  under  them  as  if  some  hollow  place  was  there ;     shakes- 
they  heard  also  a  kind  of  hissing,  as  of  serpents,  but  nothing  as  yet  appeared.     Then 
said  the  boys,  "Are  we  not  yet  at  the  end  of  this  doleful  place?" 

But  the  guide  also  bid  them  be  of  good  courage  and  look  well  to  their  feet ;  "  lest 
haply,"  said  he,  "you  be  taken  in  some  snare." 

Now  James  began  to  be  sick ;  but  I  think  the  cause  thereof  was  fear :  James  is  sick 
so  his  mother  gave  him  some  of  that  glass  of  spirits  that  had  been  given  with  fcar- 
her  at  the  Interpreter's  house,  and  three  of  the  pills  that  Mr.  Skill  had  prepared,  and 
the  boy  began  to  revive.  Thus  they  went  on  till  they  came  to  about  the  middle  of 
the  valley ;  and  then  Christiana  said,  "  Methinks  I  see  something  yonder  upon  the 
road  before  us,  a  thing  of  a  shape  such  as  I  have  not  seen."  The  flcuil  ap. 

Then  said  Joseph,  "  Mother,  what  is  it  ?"  pears- 

"An  ugly  thing,  child  ;  an  ugly  thing,"  said  she. 

"  But,  mother,  what  is  it  like  ?"  said  he. 

"  'Tis  like  I  cannot  tell  what,"  said  she,  "and  now  it  is  but  a  little  The pilgrims are 
way  off."  Then  said  she,  "  A't  is  nigh."  afrai(1- 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  "let  them  that  are  most  afraid  keep       Great-heart  en- 
close to  me."     So  the  fiend  came  on  and  the  conductor  met  it;  but  when  courascs * hem- 
it  was  just  come  to  him  it  vanished  to  all  their   sights.      Then  remembered   they 
what  had  been  said  some  time  ago:  "Resist  the  devil,  and  he  will  flee  from  you." 
James  4 : 7. 

They  went  therefore  on  as  being  a  little  refreshed.     But  they  had  not  gone  far 
before  Mercy,  looking  behind  her,  saw,  as  she  thought,  something  most        A  Hon. 
like  a  lion,  and  it  came  at  a  great  padding  pace  after;  and  it  had  a  hollow  voice  of 
roaring,  and  at  every  roar  it  gave  it  made  the  valley  echo,  and  all  their  hearts  to  ache 
save  the  heart  of  him  that  was  their  guide.     So  it  came  up,  and  Mr.  Great-heart  went 
behind  and  put  the  pilgrims  all  before  him.     The  lion  also  came  on  apace,  and  Mr 
Great-heart  addressed  himself  to  give  him  battle,     r  Pet.  5  : 8,  9.     But  when  he  saw 


TERRORS  OF  THE  VALLEY.  267 

that  it  was  determined  that  resistance  should  be  made,  he  also  drew  back  and  came 
no  farther. 

Then  they  went  on  again,  and  their  conductor  went  before  them,  till  they  came  to 

A  pit  and  a  place  where  was  cast  up  a  pit  the  whole  breadth  of  the  way ;  and  before 
darkness.  ^Qy  coui^  foe  prepared  to  go  over  that,  a  great  mist  and  a  darkness  fell 

upon  them  so  that  they  could  not  see.  Then  said  the  pilgrims,  "Alas,  what  now  shall 
we  do  ?" 

But  their  guide  made  answer,  "  Fear  not ;  stand  still,  and  see  what  an  end  will  be 
put  to  this  also ;"  so  they  stayed  there  because  their  path  was  marred.  They  then 
also  thought  that  they  did  hear  more  apparently  the  noise  and  rushing  of  the  en- 
emies ;  the  fire  also  and  smoke  of  the  pit  were  much  easier  to  be  discerned. 

Then  said  Christiana  to  Mercy,  "  Now  I  see  what  my  poor  husband  went  through. 
Christiana  now  I  have  heard  much  of  this  place,  but  I  never  was  here  before  now.  Poor 

knows  what    her  .,  -  .  . 

husband feit.  man!  he  went  here  all  alone  in  the  night;  he  had  night  almost  quite 
through  the  way ;  also  these  fiends  were  busy  about  him  as  if  they  would  have  torn 
him  in  pieces.  Many  have  spoken  of  it,  but  none  can  tell  what  the  valley  of  the 
Shadow  of  Death  should  mean  until  they  come  in  themselves.  The  heart  knoweth 
its  own  bitterness,  and  a  stranger  intermeddleth  not  with  its  joy.  Prov.  14: 10.  To 
be  here  is  a  fearful  thing." 

GREAT.  This  is  like  doing  business  in  great  waters,  or  like  going  down  into  the 
deep.  This  is  like  being  in  the  heart  of  the  sea,  and  like  going  down  to  the  bottoms 
of  the  mountains.  Now  it  seems  as  if  the  earth,  with  its  bars,  were  about  us  for  ever. 
But  let  them  that  walk  in  darkness,  and  have  no  light,  trust  in  the  name  of  the  Lord 
and  stay  upon  their  God.  Isa.  50: 10.  For  my  part,  as  I  have  told  you  already,  I 
have  gone  often  through  this  valley  and  have  been  much  harder  put  to  it  than  now  I 
am ;  and  yet  you  see  I  am  alive.  I  would  not  boast,  for  that  I  am  not  my  own 
saviour,  but  I  trust  that  we  shall  have  a  good  deliverance.  Come,  let  us  pray  for  light 
to  Him  that  can  lighten  our  darkness,  and  that  can  rebuke  not  only  these,  but  all  the 
Satans  in  hell. 

They  pray.  So  they  cried  and  prayed,  and  God  sent  light  and  deliverance,  for 

there  was  now  no  let  in  their  way ;  no,  not  there  where  but  now  they  were  stopped  with 
a  pit.  Yet  they  were  not  got  through  the  valley.  So  they  went  on  still,  and  met 
with  great  stinks  and  loathsome  smells,  to  the  great  annoyance  of  them.  Then  said 
Mercy  to  Christiana,  "  It  is  not  so  pleasant  being  here  as  at  the  gate,  or  at  the  Inter- 
preter's, or  at  the  house  where  we  lay  last." 

"Oh,  but,"  said  one  of  the  boys,  "it  is  not  so  bad  to  go  through  here  as  it  is  to 
one  of  the  abide  here  always ;  and  for  aught  I  know,  one  reason  why  we  must  go 
boys  replies.          ^jg  wav  to  ^Q  house  prepared  for  us  is,  that  our  home  might  be  made 
the  sweeter  to  us." 

"  Well  said,  Samuel,"  quoth  the  guide ;  "  thou  hast  now  spoke  like  a  man." 
"  Why,  if  ever  I  get  out  of  here  again,"  said  the  boy,  "  I  think  I  shall  prize  light 
and  good  way  better  than  I  ever  did  in  all  my  life." 
Then  said  the  guide,  "  We  shall  be  out  by-and-by." 


268 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


So  on  they  went,  and  Joseph  said,  "  Can- 
not we  see  to  the  end  of  this  valley  as  yet?" 

Then  said  the  guide,  "  Look  to  your 
feet,  for  we  shall  presently  be  among  the 
snares:"  so  they  looked  to  their  feet  and 
went  on ;  but  they  were  troubled  much 
with  the  snares.  Now  when  they  were 
come  among  the  snares,  they  espied  a  man 
cast  into  the  ditch  on  the  left  hand,  with  his 
flesh  all  rent  and  torn.  Then  Heedless  is  siain 

.  ...  _.,  .  anil      Take  •  heed 

said  the  guide,  "  That  is  one  preserved. 
Heedless  that  was  going  this  way ;  he  has 
lain  there  a  great  while.  There  was  one 
Take-heed  with  him  when  he  was  taken 
and  slain,  but  he  escaped  their  hands.  You 
cannot  imagine  how  many  are  killed  here- 
abouts, and  yet  men  are  so  foolishly  ven- 
turous as  to  set  out  lightly  on  pilgrimage 
and  to  come  without  a  guide.  Poor  Chris- 
tian !  it  was  a  wonder  that  he  here  escaped ; 


THE  GIANT   MAUL. 


but  he  was  beloved  of  his  God ;  also  he  had 
a  good  heart  of  his  own,  or  else  he  could 
never  have  done  it." 

Now  they  drew  towards  the  end  of 
this  way ;  and  just  there  where  Christian 
had  seen  the  cave  when  he  went  by,  out 
thence  came  forth  Maul,  a  giant.  This 
Maul  did  use  to  spoil  young  pilgrims  with 
sophistry ;  and  he  called  Great-  Maui,  a  giant, 

1  .     1         ,   .  ,     quarrels          with 

heart  by  his  name,  and   said  Great  heart, 
unto    him,   "  How   many   times    have    you 
been  forbidden  to  do  these  things?" 

Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  "What 
things?" 

"  What  things  ?"  quoth  the  giant.  "  You 
know  what  things :  but  I  will  put  an  end  to 
your  trade." 

"But  pray,"  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  "be 
fore  we  fall  to  it,  let  us  understand  where- 
fore we  must  fight." 


BATTLE  WITH  GIANT  MAUL.  269 

Now  the  women  and  children  stood  trembling  and  knew  not  what  to  do.     Quoth 
the  giant,  "  You  rob  the  country,  and  rob  it  with  the  worst  of  thefts." 

"  These  are  but  generals,"  said  Mr.  Great-heart.     "  Come  to  particulars,  man." 
GOCVS  ministers  Then  said  the  giant,  "Thou  practises!  the   craft  of  a  kidnapper: 

counted     as    kid-  x 

thou  gatherest  up  women  and  children  and  earnest  them  into  a  strange 


country,  to  the  weakening  of  my  master's  kingdom." 

But  now  Great-heart  replied,  "  I  am  a  servant  of  the  God  of  heaven  ;  my  business 

is  to  persuade  sinners  to  repentance.     I  am  commanded  to  do  my  endeavors  to  turn 

The  giant  and  men,  women,  and  children  from  darkness  to  light,  and  from  the  power  of 

Mr.     Great  -heart  <•»    a  i   •<•     1  •      1        •     i       i     1 

must  right.  Satan  unto  God  ;  and  if  this  be  indeed  the  ground  of  thy  quarrel,  let  us 

fall  to  it  as  soon  as  thou  wilt." 

Then  the  giant  came  up  and  Mr.  Great-heart  went  to  meet  him;  and  as  he  went 
he  drew  his  sword,  but  the  giant  had  a  club.     So  without  more  ado  they  fell  to  it,  and 
folks'  at  the  first  blow  the  giant  struck  Mr.  Great-heart  down  upon  one  of  his 


help  "the  knees.     With  that  the  women  and  children  cried  out.     So  Mr.  Great- 

rrirs    of   stronger  .  .    1    .  -       .  .         .       . 

folks.  heart,  recovering  himself,  laid  about  him  in  full  lusty  manner  and  gave 

the  giant  a  wound  in  his  arm.  Thus  he  fought  for  the  space  of  an  hour,  to  that 
height  of  heat  that  the  breath  came  out  of  the  giant's  nostrils  as  the  heat  doth  out  of  a 
boiling  caldron. 

Then  they  sat  down  to  rest  them  ;  but  Mr.  Great-heart  betook  himself  to  prayer. 
Also  the  women  and  children  did  nothing  but  sigh  and  cry  all  the  time  that  the 
battle  did  last. 

The  giant          When  they  had  rested  them  and  taken  breath,  they  both  fell  to  it 

again,  and  Mr.  Great-heart,  with  a  blow,  fetched  the  giant  down  to  the 

ground.     "  Nay,  hold,  let  me  recover,"  quoth  he  :  so  Mr.  Great-heart  fairly  let  him 

get  up.     So  to  it  they  went  again,  and  the  giant  missed  but  little  of  all  to  breaking 

Mr.  Great-heart's  skull  with  his  club. 

Mr.  Great-heart,  seeing  that,  runs  to  him  in  the  full  heat  of  his  spirit  and  pierceth 
him  under  the  fifth  rib.  With  that  the  giant  began  to  faint  and  could  hold  up  his 

He  is  siam  club  no  longer.     Then  Mr.  Great-heart  seconded  his  blow  and  smit  the 

and  liis  head  dis-  .   .  .  _  ._  ..       1   •-,  -i 

posed  of.  head  of  the  giant  from  his  shoulders.     Then  the  women  and  children 

rejoiced,  and  Mr.  Great-heart  also  praised  God  for  the  deliverance  He  had  wrought. 

When  this  was  done,  they  among  them  erected  a  pillar  and  fastened  the  giant's 
head  thereon,  and  wrote  under  it  in  letters  that  passengers  might  read, 

"  He  that  did  wear  this  head  was  one 

That  pilgrims  did  misuse; 
He  stopped  their  way,  he  spared  none, 

But  did  them  all  abuse  ; 
Until  that  I,  Great-heart,  arose, 

The  pilgrims'  guide  to  be, 
Until  that  I  did  him  oppose 

That  was  their  enemy." 


270  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


THE  SEVENTH  STAGE. 

Now  I  saw  that  they  went  on  to  the  ascent  that  was  a  little  way  off,  cast  up  to  be 
a  prospect  for  pilgrims.  That  was  the  place  from  whence  Christian  had  the  first  sight 
of  Faithful  his  brother.  Wherefore,  here  they  sat  down  and  rested.  They  also  here 
did  eat  and  drink  and  make  merry,  for  that  they  had  gotten  deliverance  from  this  so 
dangerous  an  enemy.  As  they  sat  thus  and  did  eat,  Christiana  asked  the  guide  if  he 
had  caught  no  hurt  in  the  battle.  Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  "  No,  save  a  little  on 
my  flesh  ;  yet  that  also  shall  be  so  far  from  being  to  my  detriment  that  it  is  at  present 
a  proof  of  my  love  to  my  Master  and  you,  and  shall  be  a  means,  by  grace,  to  increase 
my  reward  at  last." 

CHR.  But  were  you  not  afraid,  good  sir,  when  you  saw  him  come  with  his  club? 

"  It  is  my  duty,"  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  "  to  mistrust  my  own  ability,  Discourse  of 
that  I  may  have  reliance  on  Him  who  is  stronger  than  all." 

CHR.  But  what  did  you  think  when  he  fetched  you  down  to  the  ground  at  the 
first  blow  ? 

"  Why,  I  thought,"  quoth  Mr.  Great-heart,  "  that  so  my  Master  himself  was  served, 
and  yet  he  it  was  that  conquered  at  last."  2  Cor.  4:10,  1 1 ;  Rom.  8  :  37. 

MATT    When  vou  all  have  thought  what  you  please,  I  think  God  has    Matthew  here  aa- 

...  •"•«.•"«          mires  God's  good- 

been  wonderfully  good  unto  us,  both  in  bringing  us  out  of  this  valley  n^s. 

and  in  delivering  us  out  of  the  hand  of  this  enemy.  For  my  part  I  see  no  reason  why 
we  should  distrust  our  God  any  more,  since  he  has  now,  and  in  such  a  place  as  this, 
given  us  such  testimony  of  his  love. 

Then  they  got  up  and  went  forward. 

Now  a  little  way  before  them  stood  an  oak ;  and  under  it,  when  they  came  to  it, 
they  found  an  old  pilgrim  fast  asleep.  They  knew  that  he  was  a  pilgrim  01(,  Honest  asleep 
by  his  clothes  and  his  staff  and  his  girdle. 

So  the  guide,  Mr.  Great-heart,  awaked  him,  and  the  old  gentleman,  as  he  lifted 
up  his  eyes,  cried  out,  "  What 's  the  matter  ?  Who  are  you  ;  and  what  is  your  business 
here  ?" 

GREAT.  Come,  man,  be  not  so  hot ;  here  are  none  but  friends. 

Yet  the  old  man  gets  up  and  stands  upon  his  guard  and  will  know  of       one  saint  some- 
times takes  another 

them  what  they  are. 

Then  said  the  guide,  "  My  name  is  Great-heart ;  I  am  the  guide  of  these  pilgrims 
that  are  going  to  the  celestial  country." 

Then  said  Mr.  Honest,  "  I  cry  you  mercy ;   I  feared  that  you  had       Talk  between 

,     ,   . ,-        -    Great-heart     and 

been  of  the  company  of  those  that  some  time  ago  did  rob  Little-faith  of  Honest, 
his  money  ;  but  now  I  look  better  about  me,  I  perceive  you  are  honester  people." 

GREAT.  Why,  what  would  or  could  you  have  done  to  have  helped  yourself,  if  in- 
deed we  had  been  of  that  company  ? 

HON.  Done  ?    Why,  I  would  have  fought  as  long  as  breath  had  been  in  me  ;  and 


BATHER  HONEST. 


272  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

had  I  so  done,  I  am  sure  you  could  never  have  given  me  the  worst  on  't ;  for  a  Chris- 
tian can  never  be  overcome  unless  he  shall  yield  of  himself. 

"  Well  said,  Father  Honest,"  quoth  the  guide ;  "  for  by  this  I  know  thou  art  a 
cock  of  the  right  kind,  for  thou  hast  said  the  truth." 

HON.  And  by  this  also  I  know  that  thou  knowest  what  true  pilgrimage  is ;  for  all 
others  do  think  that  we  are  the  soonest  overcome  of  any. 

GREAT.  Well,  now  we  are  so  happily  met,  pray  let  me  crave  your  name  and  the 
name  of  the  place  you  came  from. 

HON.  My  name  I  cannot  tell  you,  but  I  came  from  the  town  of  Stu-  Wiicncc  Mr.  iion- 
pidity  ;  it  lieth  about  four  degrees  beyond  the  city  of  Destruction. 

GREAT.  Oh,  are  you  that  countryman?  Then  I  deem  I  have  half  a  guess  of  you; 
your  name  is  Old  Honesty,  is  it  not  ? 

So  the  old  gentleman  blushed,  and  said,  "  Not  honesty  in  the  abstract,  but  Honest 
is  my  name ;  and  I  wish  that  my  nature  may  agree  to  what  I  am  called.  But,  sir," 
said  the  old  gentleman,  "how  could  you  guess  that  I  am  such  a  man,  since  I  came 
from  such  a  place  ?" 

GREAT.  I  have  heard  of  you  before  by  my  Master ;  for  he  knows  all       stupefied  ones 
things  that  are  done  on  the  earth.     But  I  have  often  wondered  that  any  fhose^mereiy'ca" 
should  come  from  your  place ;  for  your  town  is  worse  than  is  the  city  naL 
of  Destruction  itself. 

HON.  Yes,  we  lie  more  off  from  the  sun  and  so  are  more  cold  and  senseless.  But 
were  a  man  in  a  mountain  of  ice,  yet  if  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  will  arise  upon  him, 
his  frozen  heart  shall  feel  a  thaw ;  and  thus  it  has  been  with  me. 

GREAT.  I  believe  it,  Father  Honest,  I  believe  it ;  for  I  know  the  thing  is  true. 

Then  the  old  gentleman  saluted  all  the  pilgrims  with  a  holy  kiss  of  charity,  and 
asked  them  their  names  and  how  they  had  fared  since  they  set  out  on  their  pil- 
grimage. 

Then  said  Christiana,  "  My  name  I  suppose  you  have  heard  of ;  good      ow  IIonest  aiul 
Christian  was  my  husband,  and  these  four  are  his  children."     But  can  clmMulim  talk- 
you  think  how  the  old  gentleman  was  taken  when  she  told  him  who  she  was  ?     He 
skipped,  he  smiled,  he  blessed  them  with  a  thousand  good  wishes,  saying, 

"  I  have  heard  much  of  your  husband,  and  of  his  travels  and  wars  which  he 
underwent  in  his  days.  Be  it  spoken  to  your  comfort,  the  name  of  your  husband 
rings  all  over  these  parts  of  the  world ;  his  faith,  his  courage,  his  enduring,  and  his 
sincerity  under  all,  have  made  his  name  famous." 

Then  he  turned  him  to  the  boys  and  asked  them  of  their  names,  which  they  told 
him.  Then  said  he  unto  them,  "Matthew,  be  thou  like  Matthew  the  0](1  Mr  Honest,s 
publican,  not  in  vice,  but  in  virtue."  Matt.  10:3.  "Samuel,"  said  he,  blessmg on them- 
"  be  thou  like  Samuel  the  prophet,  a  man  of  faith  and  prayer."  Psa.  99 : 6.  "  Joseph," 
said  he,  "  be  thou  like  Joseph  in  Potiphar's  house,  chaste,  and  one  that  flees  from 
temptation."  Gen.  39.  "  And,  James,  be  thou  like  James  the  just,  and  like  James  the 
brother  of  our  Lord."  Acts  1:13.  Then  they  told  him  of  Mercy,  and  how  she  had 
left  her  town  and  her  kindred  to  come  along  with  Christiana  and  with  her  sons. 


35 


THERE  ALSO   HE   STOOD  A  GOOD  WHILE  BEFORE   HE  WOULD  VENTURE  TO  KNOCK.' 


274  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

At  that  the  old   honest  man  said,  "  Mercy  is  thy  name  ;   by  mercy        He  blesscth 
shalt  thou  be  sustained  and   carried  through  all   those  difficulties  that  Mcrcy< 
shall  assault  thee  in  thy  way,  till  thou  shalt  come  hither  where  thou  shalt  look  the 
Fountain  of  mercy  in  the  face  with  comfort." 

All  this  while  the  guide  Mr.  Great-heart  was  very  well  pleased,  and  smiled  upon 
his  companions. 

Now,  as  they  walked  along  together,  the  guide  asked  the  old  gentle-      Talk  of  OIie  Mr 
man  if  he  did  not  know  one  Mr.  Fearing,  that  came  on  pilgrimage  out  of  Fcarm< 
his  parts. 

"  Yes,  very  well,"  said  Honest.  "  He  was  a  man  that  had  the  root  of  the  matter 
in  him  ;  but  he  was  one  of  the  most  troublesome  pilgrims  that  ever  I  met  with  in  all 
my  days." 

GREAT.  I  perceive  you  knew  him,  for  you  have  given  a  very  right  character  of 
him. 

HON.  Knew  him  ?  I  was  a  great  companion  of  his  ;  I  was  with  him  most  an 
end  ;  when  he  first  began  to  think  upon  what  would  come  upon  us  hereafter,  I  was 
with  him. 

GREAT.  I  was  his  guide  from  my  Master's  house  to  the  gates  of  the  celestial  city. 

HON.  Then  you  knew  him  to  be  a  troublesome  one. 

GREAT.  I  did  so  ;  but  I  could  very  well  bear  it,  for  men  of  my  calling  are  often- 
times intrusted  with  the  conduct  of  such  as  he  was. 

HON.  Well,  then,  pray  let  us  hear  a  little  of  him,  and  how  he  managed  himself 
under  your  conduct. 


GREAT.  Why,  he  was  always  afraid  that  he  should  come  short  of       Mr. 

.  -11-  1  1         troublesome      pil- 

whither  he   had  a   desire  to  go.      Everything   frightened  him  that  he  gnmage. 
heard  anybody  speak  of,  if  it  had  but  the  least  appearance  of  opposition  in  it.     I  heard 
that  he  lav  roaring:  at  the  Slousfh  of  Despond  for  above  a  month  together  ;       His  behavior  at 

'  «  i      tlie  Slongli  of  De- 

nor  durst  he,  for  all  he  saw  several  go  over  before  him,  venture,  though  sponci. 
they  many  of  them  offered  to  lend  him  their  hands.  He  would  not  go  back  again, 
neither.  The  celestial  city  —  he  said  he  should  die  if  he  came  not  to  it  ;  and  yet  he 
was  dejected  at  every  difficulty  and  stumbled  at  every  straw  that  anybody  cast  in  his 
way.  Well,  after  he  had  lain  at  the  Slough  of  Despond  a  great  while,  as  I  have  told 
you,  one  sunshiny  morning,  I  do  n't  know  how,  he  ventured,  and  so  got  over  ;  but 
when  he  was  over  he  would  scarce  believe  it.  He  had,  I  think,  a  Slough  of  Despond 
in  his  mind,  a  slough  that  he  carried  everywhere  with  him,  or  else  he  could  never 
have  been  as  he  was.  So  he  came  up  to  the  gate,  you  know  what  I  mean,  that  stands 
at  the  head  of  this  way,  and  there  also  he  stood  a  good  while  before  he  IIis  behavi0r  at 
would  venture  to  knock.  When  the  gate  was  opened  he  would  give  back  the  gate< 
and  give  place  to  others,  and  say  that  he  was  not  worthy.  For,  for  all  he  got  before 
some  to  the  gate,  yet  many  of  them  went  in  before  him.  There  the  poor  man  would 
stand  shaking  and  shrinking  ;  I  dare  say  it  would  have  pitied  one's  heart  to  have  seen 
him.  Nor  would  he  go  back  again.  At  last  he  took  the  hammer  that  hanged  on  the 
gate  in  his  hand  and  gave  a  small  rap  or  two  ;  then  one  opened  to  him,  but  he  shrunk 


THE  STORY  OF  MR.  FEARING.  275 

back  as  before.  He  that  opened  stepped  out  after  him,  and  said,  "  Thou  trembling 
one,  what  wantest  thou?"  With  that  he  fell  down  to  the  ground.  He  that  spoke  to 
him  wondered  to  see  him  so  faint,  so  he  said  to  him,  "  Peace  be  to  thee ;  up,  for  I  have 
set  open  the  door  to  thee  ;  come  in,  for  thou  art  blessed."  With  that  he  got  up  and 
went  in  trembling ;  and  when  he  was  in  he  was  ashamed  to  show  his  face.  Well, 
after  he  had  been  entertained  there  a  while,  as  you  know  how  the  manner  is,  he  was 
bid  go  on  his  way,  and  also  told  the  way  he  should  take.  So  he  went  on  till  he  came 
ins  behavior  at  to  our  house  ;  but  as  he  behaved  himself  at  the  sfate,  so  he  did  at  mv 

the     Interpreter's    « ,  •   ,  J 

tl00'--  Master  the  Interpreter  s  door.     He  lay  there  about  in  the  cold  a  good 

while  before  he  would  adventure  to  call;  yet  he  would  not  go  back:  and  the  nights 
were  long  and  cold  then.  Nay,  he  had  a  note  of  necessity  in  his  bosom  to  my  Master 
to  receive  him,  and  grant  him  the  comforts  of  his  house,  and  also  to  allow  him  a  stout 
and  valiant  conductor,  because  he  was  himself  so  chicken-hearted  a  man  ;  and  yet  for 
all  that  he  was  afraid  to  call  at  the  door.  So  he  lay  up  and  down  thereabouts,  till, 
poor  man, he  was  almost  starved;  yea,  so  great  was  his  dejection,  that  though  he  saw 
several  others  for  knocking  get  in,  yet  he  was  afraid  to  venture.  At  last  I  think  I 
looked  out  of  the  window,  and  perceiving  a  man  to  be  up  and  down  about  the  door,  I 
went  out  to  him  and  asked  him  what  he  was ;  but,  poor  man,  the  water  stood  in  his 
eyes ;  so  I  perceived  what  he  wanted.  I  went  therefore  in  and  told  it  in  the  house, 
and  we  showed  the  thing  to  our  Lord  ;  so  he  sent  me  out  again  to  entreat  him  to 
HOW  no  was  en-  come  in  ;  but  I  dare  say  I  had  hard  work  to  do  it.  At  last  he  came  in  ; 
tertaiueu  there.  and  j  win  gay  ^^  for  my  LQT^  ^Q  carrie(i  jt  wonderfully  lovingly  to 

him.     There  were  but  a  few  good  bits  at  the  table  but  some  of  it  was  laid  upon  his 
trencher.     Then  he  presented  the  note  ;  and  my  Lord  looked  thereon,  and  said  his 
desire  should  be  granted. 
He  is  a  little  en-         So  when  he  had  been  there  a  good  while  he  seemed  to  gfet  some  heart 

couraged  at  the  In-  *••<••, 

terpreter's  house,  and  to  be  a  little  more  comfortable.  For  my  Master,  you  must  know,  is  one 
of  very  tender  bowels,  especially  to  them  that  are  afraid ;  wherefore  he  carried  it  so 
towards  him  as  might  tend  most  to  his  encouragement.  Well,  when  he  had  had  a 
sight  of  the  things  of  the  place,  and  was  ready  to  take  his  journey  to  go  to  the  city, 
my  Lord,  as  he  did  to  Christian  before,  gave  him  a  bottle  of  spirits  and  some  com- 
fortable things  to  eat.  Thus  we  set  forward,  and  I  went  before  him ;  but  the  man 
was  but  of  few  words,  only  he  would  sigh  aloud. 

When  we  were  come  to  where  the  three  fellows  were  hanged,  he  said  that  he 
He  was  greatly  doubted  that  that  would  be  his  end  also.     Only  he  seemed  glad  when  he 

afraid    when     he  ,  ,.  .  ,          -       . 

saw  the  gibbet,  but  saw  the  cross  and  the  sepulchre.     There  I  confess  he  desired  to  stay  a 

cheery    when    he      .  J 

saw  the  cross.  little  to  look  ;  and  he  seemed  for  a  while  after  to  be  a  little  cheery. 
When  he  came  to  the  hill  Difficulty,  he  made  no  stick  at  that,  nor  did  he  much  fear 
the  lions ;  for  you  must  know  that  his  troubles  were  not  about  such  things  as  these : 
his  fear  was  about  his  acceptance  at  last. 

I  got  him  in  at  the  house  Beautiful,  I  think  before  he  was  willing.     Also,  when 
Fearing  dump-  he  was  in,  I  brought  him  acquainted  with  the  damsels  of  the  place;  but 

ish  at  the  house  .  ^ 

Beautiful.  he  was  ashamed  to  make  himself  much  in  company.     He  desired  much 


276  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

to  be  alone ;  yet  he  always  loved  good  talk,  and  often  would  get  behind  the  screen  to 
hear  it.  He  also  loved  much  to  see  ancient  things,  and  to  be  pondering  them  in  his 
mind.  He  told  me  afterwards  that  he  loved  to  be  in  those  two  houses  from  which  he 
came  last,  to  wit,  at  the  gate,  and  that  of  the  Interpreter,  but  that  he  durst  not  be  so 
bold  as  to  ask. 

When  we  went  also  from  the  house  Beautiful  down  the  hill  into  the       Pleasant  in  the 

valley  of  Humiliu- 

valley  of  Humiliation,  he  went  down  as  well  as  ever  I  saw  a  man  in  my  tion. 
life  ;  for  he  cared  not  how  mean  he  was,  so  he  might  be  happy  at  last.     Yea,  I  think 
there  was  a  kind  of  sympathy  between  that  valley  and  him ;   for  I  never  saw  him 
better  in  all  his  pilgrimage  than  he  was  in  that  valley. 

Here  he  would  lie  down,  embrace  the  ground,  and  kiss  the  very  flowers  that  grew 
in  this  valley.  Lam.  3  :  27-29.  He  would  now  be  up  every  morning  by  break  of  day, 
tracing  and  walking  to  and  fro  in  the  valley. 

But  when  he  was  come  to  the  entrance  of  the  valley  of  the  Shadow     Much  perplexed 

in  the  valley  of  Hie 

of  Death,  I  thought  I  should  have  lost  my  man.  Not  for  that  he  had  any  siiadow  of  Death, 
inclination  to  go  back ;  that  he  always  abhorred ;  but  he  was  ready  to  die  for  fear. 
"  Oh,  the  hobgoblins  will  have  me !  the  hobgoblins  will  have  me !"  cried  he ;  and 
I  could  not  beat  him  out  of  it.  He  made  such  a  noise  and  such  an  outcry  here, 
that  had  they  but  heard  him,  it  was  enough  to  encourage  them  to  come  and  fall 
upon  us. 

But  this  I  took  very  great  notice  of,  that  this  valley  was  as  quiet  when  we  went 
through  it  as  ever  I  knew  it  before  or  since.  I  suppose  those  enemies  here  had  now  a 
special  check  from  our  Lord,  and  a  command  not  to  meddle  until  Mr.  Fearing  had 
passed  over  it. 

It  would  be  too  tedious  to  tell  you  of  all ;  wre  will  therefore  only  His  benavlor  at 
mention  a  passage  or  two  more.  When  he  was  come  to  Vanity  Fair,  I 
thought  he  would  have  fought  with  all  the  men  in  the  fair.  I  feared  there  we  should 
have  been  both  knocked  on  the  head,  so  hot  was  he  against  their  fooleries.  Upon  the 
Enchanted  Ground  he  was  very  wakeful.  But  when  he  was  come  at  the  river  where 
was  no  bridge,  there  again  he  was  in  a  heavy  case.  "  Now,  now,"  he  said,  "  he  should 
be  drowned  for  ever,-"  and  so  never  see  that  face  with  comfort  that  he  had  come  se* 
many  miles  to  behold. 

And  here  also  I  took  notice  of  what  was  very  remarkable ;  the  water  of  that  rivei 
was  lower  at  this  time  than  ever  I  saw  it  in  all  my  life  ;  so  he  went  over  at  last,  not- 
much  above  wetshod.     When  he  was  going  up  to  the  gate  I  began  to       HIS  boldness  ai 
take  leave  of  him  and  to  wish  him  a  good  reception  above.     So  he  said,  last- 
"  I  shall,  I  shall."     Then  parted  we  asunder,  and  I  saw  him  no  more. 

HON.  Then  it  seems  he  was  well  at  last  ? 

GREAT.  Yes,  yes,  I  never  had  doubt  about  him.  He  was  a  man  of  a  choice 
spirit,  only  he  was  always  kept  very  low,  and  that  made  his  life  so  burdensome  to 
himself  and  so  troublesome  to  others.  Psa.  88.  He  was,  above  many,  tender  of  sin ; 
he  was  so  afraid  of  doing  injuries  to  others  that  he  often  would  deny  himself  of  that 
which  was  lawful,  because  he  would  not  offend.  Rom.  14.121 ;  I  Cor.  8:13. 


PECULIARITIES  OF  MR.  FEARING.  277 

HON.  But  what  should  be  the  reason  that  such  a  good  man  should  be  all  his  days 
so  much  in  the  dark  ? 

Reasons  why  GREAT.  There  are  two  sorts  of  reasons  for  it ;  one  is,  the  wise  God 

good  men  are  so  . 

in  the  dark.  will  have  it  so;    some  must  pipe,  and  some  must  weep.      Matt.  11:16. 

Now  Mr.  Fearing  was  one  that  played  upon  the  bass.  He  and  his  fellows  sound  the 
sackbut,  whose  notes  are  more  doleful  than  the  notes  of  other  music  are ;  though 
indeed  some  say  the  bass  is  the  ground  of  music.  And  for  my  part  I  care  not  at  all 
for  that  profession  which  begins  not  in  heaviness  of  mind.  The  first  string  that  the 
musician  usually  touches  is  the  bass  when  he  intends  to  put  all  in  tune.  God  also 
plays  upon  this  string  first  when  he  sets  the  soul  in  tune  for  himself.  Only  there  was 
the  imperfection  of  Mr.  Fearing :  he  could  play  upon  no  other  music  but  this  till 
towards  his  latter  end. 

(I  make  bold  to  talk  thus  metaphorically  for  the  ripening  of  the  wits  of  young 
readers,  and  because  in  the  book  of  the  Revelation  the  saved  are  compared  to  a  com- 
pany of  musicians,  that  play  upon  their  trumpets  and  harps  and  sing  their  songs  be- 
fore the  throne.  Rev.  5:8;  14 :  2,  3.) 

HON.  He  was  a  very  zealous  man.)  as  one  may  see  by  the  relation  which  you  have 
given  of  him.  Difficulties,  lions,  or  Vanity  Fair  he  feared  not  at  all ;  it  was  only  sin, 
death,  and  hell  that  were  to  him  a  terror,  because  he  had  some  doubts  about  his  inter- 
est in  that  celestial  country. 

GREAT.  You  say  right ;  those  were  the  things  that  were  his  troublers ;  and  they, 
A  close  about  as  you  have  well  observed,  arose  from  the  weakness  of  his  mind  there- 
about, not  from  weakness  of  spirit  as  to  the  practical  part  of  a  pilgrim's 
life.     I  dare  believe  that,  as  the  proverb  is,  he  could  have  bit  a  firebran^,  had  it  stood 
in  his  way ;  but  the  things  with  which  he  was  oppressed  no  man  ever  yet  could  shake 
off  with  ease. 

Christiana's  Then  said  Christiana,  "  This  relation  of  Mr.  Fearing  has  done  me 
good ;  I  thought  nobody  had  been  like  me.  But  I  see  there  was  some 
semblance  between  this  good  man  and  me ;  only  we  differed  in  two  things :  his 
troubles  were  so  great  that  they  broke  out ;  but  mine  I  kept  within.  His  also  lay  so 
hard  upon  him  they  made  him  that  he  could  not  knock  at  the  houses  provided-  for 
entertainment ;  but  my  trouble  was  always  such  as  made  me  knock  the  louder." 
Mercy's  sentence.  MER.  If  I  might  also  speak  my  heart,  I  must  say  that  something  of 

him  has  also  dwelt  in  me.  For  I  have  ever  been  more  afraid  of  the  lake  and  the  loss 
of  a  place  in  paradise  than  I  have  been  of  the  loss  of  other  things.  Oh,  thought  I, 
may  I  have  the  happiness  to  have  a  habitation  there !  'T  is  enough,  though  I  part 
with  all  the  world  to  win  it. 

Matthews  sen-          Then  said  Matthew,  "  Fear  was  one  thing  that  made  me  think  that  I 
was  far  from  having  that  within  me  which  accompanies  salvation.     But 
if  it  was  so  with  such  a  good  man  as  he,  why  may  it  not  also  go  well  with  me  ?" 
James' sentence.  "  No  fears,  no  grace,"  said  James.     "Though  there  is  not  always 

grace  where  there  is  the  fear  of  hell,  yet,  to  be  sure,  there  is  no  grace  where  there 
is  no  fear  of  God." 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


GREAT.  Well  said,  James ;  thou  hast  hit  the  mark.  For  the  fear  of  God  is  the 
beginning  of  wisdom  ;  and  to  be  sure,  they  that  want  the  beginning  have  neither 
middle  nor  end.  But  we  will  here  conclude  our  discourse  of  Mr.  Fearing  after  we 
have  sent  after  him  this  farewell : 

"Well,  Master  Fearing,  thou  didst  fear 

Thy  God,  and  wast  afraid 
Of  doing  anything,  while  here, 

That  would  have  thee  betrayed. 
And  didst  thou  fear  the  lake  and  pit? 

Would  others  do  so  too  ! 
For,  as  for  them  that  want  thy  wit, 
1  They  do  themselves  undo." 

Now  I  saw  that  they  still  went  on  in  their  talk.     For  after  Mr.  Great-heart  had 

made  an  end  with  Mr.  Fearing,  Mr.  Hon- 
est began  to  tell  them  of  an-  or  Mr.  seir-win. 
other,  but  his  name  was  Mr.  Self-will. 
"  He  pretended  himself  to  be  a  pilgrim," 
said  Mr.  Honest ;  "  but  I  persuade  myself 
he  never  came  in  at  the  gate  that  stands 
at  the  head  of  the  way." 

GREAT.  Had  you  ever  any  talk  with 
him  about  it  ? 

HON.  Yes,  more  than  once  or  twice ; 
but  he  would  always  be  like  Old  Honest  hac] 
himself,  self-willed.  He  nei-  talked  with  him- 
ther  cared  for  man,  nor  argument,  nor  yet 
example;  what  his  mind  prompted  him 
to,  that  he  would  do,  and  nothing  else 
could  he  be  got  to  do. 

GREAT.     Pray,  what  principles  did  he 
hold  ?  for  I  suppose  you  can  tell. 

HON.  He  held  that  a  man  might  fol- 
low the  vices  as  well  as  the  seir-wiii's 
virtues  of  pilgrims ;  and  that  °Plnions- 
if  he  did  both  he  should  be  certainly  saved. 
GREAT.  How  ?  If  he  had  said  it  is  pos- 
sible for  the  best  to  be  guilty  of  the  vices 

as  well  as  to  partake  of  the  virtues  of  pilgrims,  he  could  not  much  have  been  blamed ; 
for  indeed  we  are  exempted  from  no  vice  absolutely,  but  on  condition  that  we  watch 
and  strive.     But  this,  I  perceive,  is  not  the  thing ;  but  if  I  understand  you  right  you! 
meaning  is  that  he  was  of  opinion  that  it  was  allowable  so  to  be. 
HON.  Ay,  ay,  so  I  mean,  and  so  he  believed  and  practised. 
GREAT.  But  what  grounds  had  he  for  ids  so  saying? 


SELF-WILL. 


PRESUMPTUOUS  SELF-WILL.  279 

HON.  Why,  he  said  he  had  the  Scrip'oire  for  his  warrant. 

GREAT.  Prithee,  Mr.  Honest,  present  us  with  a  few  particulars. 

HON.  So  I  will.  He  said,  to  have  to  do  with  other  men's  wives  had  been  prac- 
tised by  David,  God's  beloved,  and  therefore  he  could  do  it.  He  said,  to  have  more 
women  than  one  was  a  thing  that  Solomon  practised,  and  therefore  he  could  do  it. 
He  said  that  Sarah  and  the  godly  midwives  of  Egypt  lied,  and  so  did  saved  Rahab, 
and  therefore  he  could  do  it.  He  said  that  the  disciples  went,  at  the  bidding  of  their 
Master,  and  took  away  the  owner's  ass,  and  therefore  he  could  do  so  too.  He  said  that 
Jacob  got  the  inheritance  of  his  father  in  a  way  of  guile  and  dissimulation,  and  there- 
fore he  could  do  so  too. 

GREAT.  High  base,  indeed !     And  are  you  sure  he  was  of  this  opinion  ? 

HON.  I  have  heard  him  plead  for  it,  bring  Scripture  for  it,  bring  arguments  for 
it,  etc. 

GREAT.  An  opinion  that  is  not  fit  to  be  with  any  allowance  in  the  world. 

HON.  You  must  understand  me  rightly :  he  did  not  say  that  any  man  might  do 
this ;  but  that  they  who  had  the  virtues  of  those  that  did  such  things  might  also  do 
the  same. 

GREAT.  But  what  more  false  than  such  a  conclusion  ?  For  this  is  as  much  as  to 
say  that  because  good  men  heretofore  have  sinned  of  infirmity,  therefore  he  had 
allowance  to  do  it  of  a  presumptuous  mind ;  or  that  if,  because  a  child,  by  the  blast  of 
the  wind,  or  for  that  it  stumbled  at  a  stone,  fell  down  and  defiled  itself  in  the  mire, 
therefore  he  might  wilfully  lie  down  and  wallow  like  a  boar  therein.  Who  could 
have  thought  that  any  one  could  so  far  have  been  blinded  by  the  power  of  lust?  But 
what  is  written  must  be  true :  they  "  stumble  at  the  Word,  being  disobedient ;  where- 
unto  also  they  were  appointed."  i  Pet.  2:  8.  His  supposing  that  such  may  have' the 
godly  men's  virtues  who  addict  themselves  to  their  vices,  is  also  a  delusion  as  strong 
as  the  other.  To  eat  up  the  sin  of  God's  people,  Hos.  4:  8,  as  a  dog  licks  up  filth,  is 
no  sign  of  one  that  is  possessed  with  their  virtues.  Nor  can  I  believe  that  one  who 
is  of  this  opinion  can  at  present  have  faith  or  love  in  him.  But  I  know  you  have 
made  some  strong  objections  against  him ;  prithee  what  can  he  say  for  himself? 

HON.  Why,  he  says,  to  do  this  by  way  of  opinion  seems  abundantly  more  honest 
than  to  do  it  and  yet  hold  contrary  to  it  in  opinion. 

GREAT.  A  very  wicked  answer.  For  though  to  let  loose  the  bridle  to  lusts  while 
our  opinions  are  against  such  things  is  bad,  yet  to  sin  and  plead  a  toleration  so  to  do 
is  worse :  the  one  stumbles  beholders  accidentally,  the  other  leads  them  into  the 
snare. 

HON.  There  are  many  of  this  man's  mind  that  have  not  this  man's  mouth,  and 
that  makes  going  on  pilgrimage  of  so  little  esteem  as  it  is. 

GREAT.  You  have  said  the  truth,  and  it  is  to  be  lamented ;  but  he  that  feareth  the 
King  of  paradise  shall  come  out  of  them  all. 

CHR.  There  are  strange  opinions  in  the  world.  I  know  one  that  said  it  was  time 
enough  to  repent  when  we  come  to  die. 

GREAT.  Such  are  not  overwise ;  that  man  would  have  been  loath,  might  he  have 


280 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


had  a  week  to  run  twenty  miles  in  his  life,  to  defer  his  journey  to  the  last  hour  of 
that  week. 

HON.  You  say  right;  and  yet  the  generality  of  them  who  count  themselves  pil- 
grims do  indeed  do  thus.  I  am,  as  you  see,  an  old  man,  and  have  been  a  traveller  in 
this  road  many  a  day,  and  I  have  taken  notice  of  many  things.  I  have  seen  some 
that  have  set  out  as  if  they  would  drive  all  the  world  before  them,  who  yet  have,  in  a 
few  days,  died  as  they  in  the  wilderness,  and  so  never  got  sight  of  the  promised  land. 
I  have  seen  some  that  have  promised  nothing  at  first  setting  out  to  be  pilgrims,  and 
who,  one  would  have  thought,  could  not  have  lived  a  day,  that  have  yet  proved  very 
good  pilgrims.  I  have  seen  some  who  have  run  hastily  forward,  that  again  have, 
after  a  little  time,  run  just  as  fast  back  again.  I  have  seen  some  who  have  spoken 
very  well  of  a  pilgrim's  life  at  first,  that  after  a  while  have  .spoken  as  much  against  it. 
I  have  heard  some  when  they  first  set  out  for  paradi.se  say  positively  there  is 
such  a  place,  who,  when  they  have  been  almost  there,  have  come  back  again 
and  said  there  is  none.  I  have  heard  some  vaunt  what  they  would  do  in  case 
they  should  be  opposed,  that  have,  even  at  a  false  alarm,  fled  faith,  the  pilgrim's  way, 
and  all. 

Now  as  they  were  thus  on  their  way 
there  came  one  running  to  Fresh  news  of 
meet  them,  and  said,  "Gentle-  trouble- 
men,  and  you  of  the  weaker  sort,  if  you  love 
life  shift  for  yourselves,  for  the  robbers  are 
before  you." 

Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  "They  be 
the -three  that  set  upon  Little-faith  hereto- 
fore. Well,"  said  he,  "  we  are  ready  for 
them ;"  so  they  went  on  their  Great-heart's 
way.  Now  they  looked  ,t  resolution- 
every  turning  when  they  sh^aH  have  mec 
with  the  villains;  but  whether  thty  heard 
of  Mr.  Great-heart,  or  whether  they  had 
some  other  game,  they  came  not  up  to  the 
pilgrims. 

Christiana  then  wished  for  an  inn  to  re- 
fresh herself  and  her  children  Christiana 
because  they  were  weary.  mshes  for  an  inn- 
Then  said  Mr.  Honest,  "  There  is  one  a 
little  before  us  where  a  very  honorable  dis- 
ciple, one  Gaius,  dwells."  Rom.  16:23. 
So  they  all  concluded  to  turn  in  thither; 
and  the  rather,  because  the  old  gentleman 

gave  him  so  good  a  report.     When  they  came  to  the  door  they  went  in,  not  knock- 
ing, for  folks  use  not  to  knock  at  the  door  of  an  inn.     Then  they  called  for  the 


"THE  INNKEEPER  WAS  A  LOVER  OF  PILGRIMS." 


28l 


master  of  the  house  and  he  came  to  them.     So  they  asked  if  they  might  lie  there 
that  night. 

"  Yes,  gentlemen,"  said  Gaius,  "  if  you  be  true  men  ;  for  my  house  is  for  none  but 

tains  GnKMii('niMi  P^rtr"lls-"     Then  were  Christiana,  Mercy,  and  the  boys  the  more  glad,  for 

that  the  innkeeper  was  a  lover  of  pilgrims.     So  they  called  for  rooms, 

and  he  showed  them  one  for  Christiana  and  her  children  and  Mercy,  and  another  for 

Mr.  Great-heart  and  the  old  gentleman. 

Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  "Good  Gaius,  what  hast  thou  for  supper?  for  these 
pilgrims  have  come  far  to-day  and  are  weary." 

"  It  is  late,"  said  Gaius,  "so  we  cannot  conveniently  go  out  to  seek  food;  but  such 
as  we  have  you  shall  be  welcome  to  if  that  will  content." 

GREAT.  We  will  be  content  with  what  thou  hast  in  the  house ;  for  as  much  as  I 
have  proved  thee,  thou  art  never  destitute  of  that  which  is  convenient. 

Then  he  went  down  and  spoke  to  the 
Gaius'  cook,     cook,  whose  name  was  Taste- 
that-which-is-good,  to  get  ready  supper  for 
He  comes  up  so  manY  pilgrims.     This  done, 
he    comes    up    again,    saying, 
"  Come,  my  good  friends,  you  are  welcome 
to  me,  and  I  am  glad  that  I  have  a  house  to 
entertain  you  in ;  and  while  supper  is  ma- 
king ready,  if  you  please,  let  us  entertain 
one  another  with  some  good  discourse;"  so 
they  all  said,  "Content." 

Then  said  Gaius,  "  Whose  wife  is  this 
Talk  between  aged     matron  ?      and     whose 

Gaius     and     his  . 

guests.  daughter  is  this  young  dam- 

sel?" 

GREAT.  This  woman  is  the  wife  of  one 
Christian,  a  pilgrim  of  former  times;  and 
these  are  his  four  children.  The  maid  is 
one  of  her  acquaintance,  one  that  she  hath 
persuaded  to  come  with  her  on  pilgrimage. 
The  boys  take  all  after  their  father  and 
covet  to  tread  in  his  steps ;  yea,  if  they  do 
but  see  any  place  where  the  old  pilgrim 
hath  lain,  or  any  print  of  his  foot,  it  minis- 
tereth  joy  to  their  hearts  and  they  covet  to  lie  or  tread  in  the  same. 

Then  said  Gaius,  "Is  this  Christian's  wife  and  are  these  Christian's  children?    I 
or  Christian's  knew  your  husband's  father,  yea,  also  his  father's  father.     Many  have 
been  good  of  this  stock;  their  ancestors  dwelt  first  at  Antioch.     Acts 
1 1 « 26.    Christian's  progenitors  (I  suppose  you  have  heard  your  husband  talk  of  them) 
were  very  worthy  men.    They  have,  above  any  that  I  know,  showed  themselves  men 
36 


TAS  1  E-THAT-WHICH-IS-GOOD. 


ancestors. 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS, 


of  great  virtue  and  courage  for  the  Lord  of  the  pilgrims,  his  ways,  and  them  that 
loved  him.  I  have  heard  of  many  of  your  husband's  relations  that  have  stood  all 
trials  for  the  sake  of  the  truth.  Stephen,  that  was  one  of  the  first  of  the  family  from 
whence  your  husband  sprang,  was  knocked  on  the  head  with  stones.  Acts  7  :  59,  60. 
James,  another  of  this  generation,  was  slain  with  the  edge  of  the  sword.  Acts  12:2. 
To  say  nothing  of  Paul  and  Peter,  men  anciently  of  the  family  from  whence  your 
husband  came,  there  was  Ignatius,  who  was  cast  to  the  lions  ;  Romanus,  whose  flesh 
was  cut  by  pieces  from  his  bones  ;  and  Polycarp,  that  played  the  man  in  the  fire. 
There  was  he  that  was  hanged  up  in  a  basket  in  the  sun  for  the  wasps  to  eat,  and  he 
whom  they  put  into  a  sack  and  cast  into  the  sea  to  be  drowned.  It  would  be  im- 
possible utterly  to  count  up  all  of  that  family  who  have  suffered  injuries  and  death 
for  the  love  of  a  pilgrim's  life,  Nor  can  I  but  be  glad  to  see  that  thy  husband  has 
left  behind  him  four  boys  such  as  these.  I  hope  they  will  bear  up  their  father's 
name  and  tread  in  their  father's  steps  and  come  to  their  father's  end." 

GREAT.  Indeed,  sir,  they  are  likely  lads;   they  seem   to  choose   heartily  their 
father's  ways. 

GAIUS.  That  is  it  that  I  said.  Where- 
fore Christian's  family  is  still  like  to  spread 
abroad  upon  the  face  of  the  ground  and 
yet  to  be  numerous  upon  the  face  of  the 


earth.    Let  Christiana  look  out     Advice  to 

tiana    about    her 

some  damsels  for  her  sons,  to  '><>>•*. 
whom  they  may  be  betrothed,  etc.,  that  the 
name  of  their  father  and  the  house  of  his 
progenitors  may  never  be  forgotten  in  this 
world. 

HON.  'Tis  pity  his  family  should  fall 
and  be  extinct. 

"Fall  it  cannot,"  said  Gaius,  "but  be 
diminished  it  may  ;  but  let  Christiana  take 
my  advice,  and  that  is  the  way  to  uphold  it 
And,  Christiana,"  said  this  innkeeper,  "  I 
am  glad  to  see  thee  and  thy  friend  Mercy 
together  here,  a  lovely  couple.  And  if  I 
may  advise,  take  Mercy  into  a  nearer  rela- 
tion to  thee  :  if  she  will,  let  her  be  given  to 

Matthew  thy  eldest  son.     It  is         A  match  be- 

tween Mercy  and 
the  way  to  preserve  a  posterity  Matthew. 

in  the  earth."  So  this  match  was  con- 
eluded,  and  in  process  of  time  they  were 
married  ;  but  more  of  that  hereafter. 

Gaius  also  proceeded  and  said,  "  I  will  now  speak  on  the  behalf  of  women  to  take 
away  their  reproach.     For  as  death  and  the  curse  came  into  the  world  by  a  woman, 


MATTHEW  AND  MERCY. 


A  f  THE  SUPPER  TABLE. 


283 


Gen.  3,  so  also  did  life  and  health;  God  sent  forth  his  Son  made  of  a  woman, 
why  women  of  Gal.  4 : 4.  Yea,  to  show  how  much  they  that  came  after  did  abhor  the  act 
dred  children,  of  the  mother,  this  sex,  in  the  Old  Testament,  coveted  children,  if  hap- 
pily this  or  that  woman  might  be  the  mother  of  the  Saviour  of  the  world.  I  will  say 
again,  that  when  the  Saviour  was  come,  women  rejoiced  in  him  before  either  man  or 
angel.  Luke  i :  42-46.  I  read  not  that  ever  any  man  did  give  unto  Christ  so  much 
as  one  groat ;  but  the  women  followed  him  and  ministered  to  him  of  their  substance. 
Luke  8:2,  3.  'Twas  a  woman  that  washed  his  feet  with  tears,  Luke  7:37-50,  and  a 
woman  that  anointed  his  body  to  the  burial,  John  11:2;  12:3.  They  were  women 
who  wept  when  he  was  going  to  the  cross,  Luke  23  : 27,  and  women  that  followed  him 
from  the  cross,  Matt.  27 :  55,  56;  Luke  23  :  55,  and  that  sat  over  against  his  sepulchre 
when  he  was  buried,  Matt.  27  :6i.  They  were  women  that  were  first  with  him  at  his 
resurrection  morn,  Luke  24:  i,  and  women  that  brought  tidings  first  to  his  disciples 
that  he  was  risen  from  the  dead.  Luke  24:22,  23.  Women  therefore  are  highly 
favored,  and  show  by  these  things  that  they  are  sharers  with  us  in  the  grace  of  life." 

Now  the  cook  sent  up  to  signify  that 
supper  ready,    supper  was  almost  ready,  and 
sent  one  to  lay  the  cloth  and  the  trenchers 
and  to  set  the  salt  and  bread  in  order. 

Then  said  Matthew,  "The  sight  of 
this  cloth  and  of  this  forerunner  of  the 
supper  begetteth  in  me  a  greater  appetite 
to  my  food  than  I  had  before." 

GAIUS.  So  let  all  ministering  doc- 
trines to  thee  in  this  life  beget  in  thee  a 
greater  desire  to  sit  at  the  supper  of  the 
great  King  in  his  kingdom;  for  all 
preaching,  books,  and  ordinances  here  are 
wnat  is  to  be  but  as  the  laying  of  the 

gathered  from  the.  1  j    ±t  n_-  c 

faying  of. the  bread  trenchers  and  the  setting  of 

with  the  cloth  and  ,  1          1  -,          1 

trenchers.  salt    upon    the    board,  when 

compared  with  the  feast  which  our  Lord 
will  make  for  us  when  we  come  to  his 
house. 

So  supper  came  up.  And  first  a 
heave  -  shoulder  and  a  wave-breast  were 
set  on  the  table  before  them,  to  show 
that  they  must  begin  their  meal  with 

"SO   SUPPER   CAME  UP."  .  „.        -  ,„,  1 

prayer  and  praise  to  God.  Ihe  heave- 
shoulder  David  lifted  up  his  heart  to  God  with ;  and  with  the  wave-breast,  where  his 
heart  lay,  he  used  to  lean  upon  his  harp  when  he  played.  Lev.  7:32-34;  10:  14,  15; 
Psa.  25  :  i ;  Heb.  13:15.  These  two  dishes  were  very  fresh  and  good,  and  they  all  ate 
heartily  thereof. 


284  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

The  next  they  brought  up  was  a  bottle  of  wine  as  red  as  blood.  Deut.  32: 14; 
Judges  9:  13;  John  15:5.  So  Gaius  said  to  them,  "Drink  freely;  this  is  the  true 
juiee  of  the  vine  that  makes  glad  the  heart  of  God  and  man."  So  they  drank  and 
were  merry. 

The  next  was  a  dish  of  milk  well  crumbed.    Gaius  said,  "Let  the    A disu of miik. 
boys  have  that,  that  they  may  grow  thereby."     i  Pet.  2:1,2. 

Then  they  brought  up  in  course  a  dish  of  butter  and  honey.     Then  said  Gaius, 
"  Eat  freely  of  this,  for  this  is  good  to  cheer  up  and  strengthen  your        Of  honey  am, 
judgments   and   understandings.      This  was   our   Lord's  dish  when  he  fc 
was  a  child :  '  Butter  and  honey  shall  he  eat,  that  he  may  know  to  refuse  the  evil  and 
choose  the  good.'  "     Isa.  7:15. 

Then  they  brought  them  up  a  dish  of  apples,  and  they  were  very  A  dish  of 

good-tasted  fruit.     Then  said  Matthew,  "  May  we  eat  apples,  since  it  was  apples> 
such  by  and  with  which  the  serpent  beguiled  our  first  mother?" 

Then  said  Gaius, 

"Apples  were  they  with  which  we  were  beguiled  ; 
Yet  sin,  not  apples,  hath  our  souls  defiled : 
Apples  forbid,  if  ate,  corrupt  the  blood  ; 
To  eat  such,  when  commanded,  does  us  good. 
Drink  of  his  flagons  then,  thou  church,  his  dove, 
And  eat  his  apples,  who  art  sick  of  love." 

Then  said  Matthew,  "  I  made  the  scruple  because  I  a  while  since  was  sick  with 
the  eating  of  fruit." 

GAIUS.  Forbidden  fruit  will  make  you  sick;  but  not  what  our  Lord  has 
tolerated. 

While  they  were  thus  talking  they  were  presented  with  another  dish,    A  dish  or  nuts. 
and  it  was  a  dish  of  nuts.     Song  6:  n.     Then  said  some  at  the  table,  "Nuts  spoil 
tender  teeth,  especially  the  teeth  of  children ;"  which  when  Gaius  heard,  he  said, 

"Hard  texts  are  nuts  (I  will  not  call  them  cheaters), 
Whose  shells  do  keep  their  kernels  from  the  eaters ; 
Open  the  shells  and  you  shall  have  the  meat ; 
They  here  are  brought  for  you  to  crack  and  eat." 

Then  were  they  very  merry,  and  sat  at  the  table  a  long  time  talking  of  many 
things.  Then  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  My  good  landlord,  while  we  are  cracking 
your  nuts,  if  you  please,  do  you  open  this  riddle : 

"A  man  there  was,  though  some  did  count  him  mad,  A  riddle  put  forth 

The  more  he  cast  away  the  more  he  had."  by  Okl  Honest. 

Then  they  all  gave  good  heed,  wondering  what  good  Gaius  would  say;  so  he  sat 
still  a  while  and  then  thus  replied : 

"  He  who  bestows  his  goods  upon  the  poor  Gaius  openg  .f 

Shall  have  as  much  again,  and  ten  times  more." 


"MERCY,  AS  HER  CUSTOM  WAS,  WOULD  BE  MAKING  COATS  AND  GARMENTS  TO  GIVE  TO  THE  POOR.' 


286  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

Then  said  Joseph,  "  I  dare  say,  sir,  I  did  not  think  you  could  have  Joseph  wonders, 
found  it  out." 

"  Oh,"  said  Gaius,  "  I  have  been  trained  up  in  this  way  a  great  while ;  nothing 
teaches  like  experience.  I  have  learned  of  my  Lord  to  be  kind,  and  have  found  by 
experience  that  I  have  gained  thereby.  There  is  that  scattereth,  and  yet  increaseth ; 
and  there  is  that  withholdeth  more  than  is  meet,  but  it  tendeth  to  poverty.  There  is 
that  maketh  himself  rich,  yet  hath  nothing ;  there  is  that  maketh  himself  poor,  yet 
hath  great  riches."  Prov.  1 1  :  24 ;  13:7. 

Then  Samuel  whispered  to  Christiana,  his  mother,  and  said,  "  Mother,  this  is  a 
very  good  man's  house ;  let  us  stay  here  a  good  while,  and  let  my  brother  Matthew 
be  married  here  to  Mercy  before  we  go  any  further." 

The  which  Gaius  the  host  overhearing,  said,  "  With  a  very  good  will,  my  child." 

So  they  stayed  there  more  than  a  month,  and  Mercy  was  given  to         Mr.tnirwaixi 
Matthew  to  wife.     While  they  stayed  here,  Mercy,  as  her  custom  was,  Mcrcy  mame(1- 
would  be  making  coats  and  garments  to  give  to  the  poor,  by  which  she  brought  a 
very  good  report  upon  the  pilgrims. 

But  to  return  again  to  our  story.  After  supper  the  lads  desired  a  bed,  for  they 
were  weary  with  travelling.  Then  Gaius  called  to  show  them  their  The  boys  p,  to 

.  ..    _  ,  _        .....  bed;  the    rest   sit 

chamber ;  but  said  Mercy,  "  I  will  have  them  to  bed.       So  she  had  them  up. 
to  bed  and  they  slept  well ;  but  the  rest  sat  up  all  night,  for  Gaius  and  they  were  such 
suitable  company  that  they  could  not  tell  how  to  part.     After  much  talk  of  their  Lord, 
themselves,  and  their  journey,  old  Mr.  Honest,  he  that  put  forth   the          Okl  Iioncst 
riddle  to  Gaius,  began  to  nod. 

Then  said  Great-heart,  "  What,  sir,  you  begin  to  be  drowsy  ?  Come,  rub  up  now, 
here  is  a  riddle  for  you." 

Then  said  Mr.  Honest,  "  Let  us  hear  it." 

Then  replied  Mr.  Great-heart, 

"  He  that  would  kill  must  first  be  overcome  :  . 

Who  live  abroad  would,  first  must  die  at  home." 

"  Ha,"  said  Mr.  Honest, "  it  is  a  hard  one — hard  to  expound  and  harder  to  practise. 
But  come,  landlord,"  said  he,  "I  will,  if  you  please,  leave  my  part  to  you;  do  you 
expound  it,  and  I  will  hear  what  you  say." 

"  No,"  said  Gaius,  "  it  was  put  to  you,  and  it  is  expected  you  should  answer  it." 

Then  said  the  old  gentleman, 

"  He  first  by  grace  must  conquered  be, 

That  sin  would  mortify ;  Tlie  rjjjie 

Who  that  he  lives  would  convince  me,  opened. 

Unto  himself  must  die." 

"It  is  right,"  said  Gaius ;  "good  doctrine  and  experience  teach  this.  For,  first, 
until  grace  displays  itself  and  overcomes  the  soul  with  its  glory,  it  is  altogether  with- 
out heart  to  oppose  sin.  Besides,  if  sin  is  Satan's  cords  by  which  the  soul  lies  bound, 
how  should  it  make  resistance  before  it  is  loosed  from  that  infirmity  ?  Secondly,  nor 


GIANT  SLA  Y-GOOD.  287 

will  any  one  that  knows  either  reason  or  grace  believe  that  such  a  man  can  be  a 
A  question  wortu  living  monument  of  grace  that  is  a  slave  to  his  own  corruptions.  And 
the  mimiing.  now  jt  comes  into  my  mind,  I  will  tell  you  a  story  worth  the  hearing. 
There  were  two  men  that  went  on  pilgrimage ;  the  one  began  when  he  was  young, 
the  other  when  he  was  old.  The  young  man  had  strong  corruptions  to  grapple  with ; 
the  old  man's  were  weak  with  the  decays  of  nature.  The  young  man  trod  his  steps 
as  even  as  did  the  old  one  and  was  every  way  as  light  as  he.  Who  now,  or  which  of 
them,  had  their  graces  shining  clearest,  since  both  seemed  to  be  alike?" 

HON.  The   young  man's,  doubtless.     For  that  which   makes  head   against   the 
A  comparison,   greatest  opposition  gives  best  demonstration-  that  it  is  strongest ;  espe- 
cially when  it  also  holdeth  pace  with  that  which  meets  not  with  half  so  much,  as  to  be 
sure  old  age  does  not.     Besides,  I  have  observed  that  old  men  have  blessed  them- 

A  mistake,  selves  with  this  mistake  :  namely,  taking  the  decays  of  nature  for  a  gra- 
cious conquest  over  corruptions,  and  so  have  been  apt  to  beguile  themselves.  Indeed, 
old  men  that  are  gracious  are  best  able  to  give  advice  to  them  that  are  young, 
because  they  have  seen  most  of  the  emptiness  of  things :  but  yet,  for  an  old  and  a 
young  man  to  set  out  both  together,  the  young  one  has  the  advantage  of  the  fairest 
discovery  of  a  work  of  grace  within  him,  though  the  old  man's  corruptions  are  nat- 
urally the  weakest. 

Thus  they  sat  talking  till  break  of  day. 

Now,  when  the  family  were  up,  Christiana  bid  her  son  James  that  he  should  read 
a  chapter ;  so  he  read  the  fifty-third  of  Isaiah.     When  he  had  done,  Mr.  Honest  asked 
Another  w^y  ^  was  sai^  that  the  Saviour  was  to  come  "  out  of  a  dry  ground,"  and 
also,  that  "he  had  no  form  nor  comeliness  in  him." 

Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  "  To  the  first  I  answer,  because  the  church  of  the 
Jews,  of  which  Christ  came,  had  then  lost -almost  all  the  sap  and  spirit  of  religion. 
To  the  second  I  say,  the  words  are  spoken  in  the  person  of  unbelievers,  who,  because 
they  want  the  eye  that  can  see  into  our  Prince's  heart,  therefore  they  judge  of  him  by 
the  meanness  of  his  outside ;  just  like  those  who,  not  knowing  that  precious  stones 
are  covered  over  with  a  homely  crust,  when  they  have  found  one,  because  they  know 
not  what  they  have  found,  cast  it  away  again  as  men  do  a  common  stone." 

"  Well,"  said  Gaius,  "  now  you  are  here,  and  since,  as  I  know,  Mr.  Great-heart  is 
good  at  his  weapons,  if  you  please,  after  we  have  refreshed  ourselves,  we  will  walk 
into  the  fields  to  see  if  we  can  do  any  good.  About  a  mile  from  hence  there  is  one 
Slay-good,  a  giant,  that  doth  much  annoy  the  King's  highway  in  these  parts ;  and  I 
know  whereabout  his  haunt  is.  He  is  master  of  a  number  of  thieves ;  it  would  be 
well  if  we  could  clear  these  parts  of  him." 

So  they  consented  and  went :  Mr.  Great-heart  with  his  sword,  helmet,  and  shield ; 
and  the  rest  with  spears  and  staves. 

niant  siay-good  When  they  came  to  the  place  where  he  was,  they  found  with  him 

Feewe-mind inhls  one  Feeble-mind  in  his  hand,  whom  his  servants  had  brought  unto  him, 
having  taken  him  in  the  way.     Now  the  giant  was  rifling  him,  with  a 
purpose  after  that  to  pick  his  bones ;  for  he  was  of  the  nature  of  flesh-eaters. 


288  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

Well,  so  soon  as  he  saw  Mr.  Great-heart  and  his  friends  at  the  mouth  of  his  cave, 
with  their  weapons,  he  demanded  what  they  wanted. 

GREAT.  We  want  thee  ;  for  we  are  come  to  revenge  the  quarrels  of  the  many  that 
thou  hast  slain  of  the  pilgrims  when  thou  hast  dragged  them  out  of  the  King's  high- 
way ;  wherefore  come  out  of  thy  cave. 

So  he  armed  himself  and  came  out,  and  to  battle  they  went  and  fought  for  above 
an  hour,  and  then  stood  still  to  take  wind. 

Then  said  the  giant,  "  Why  are  you  here  on  my  ground?" 

GREAT.  To  revenge  the  blood  of  pilgrims,  as  I  told  thee  before. 

So  they  went  to  it  again,  and  the  giant  made  Mr.  Great-heart  give  back  ;  but  he 
came  up  again,  and  in  the  greatness  of  his  mind  he  let  fly  with  such  stout-  Tllc  pjant  as_ 
ness  at  the  giant's  head  and  sides  that  he  made  him  let  his  weapon  fall  saulted  1U1(1  slain> 
out  of  his  hand.  So  he  smote  him  and  slew  him  and  cut  off  his  head  and  brought  it 
away  to  the  inn.  He  also  took  Feeble-mind  the  pilgrim  and  brought  him  with  him  to 
his  lodgings.  When  they  were  come  home  they  showed  his  head  to  the  family,  and 
set  it  up,  as  they  had  done  others  before,  for  a  terror  to  those  that  should  attempt  to 
do  as  he  hereafter. 

Then  they  asked  Mr.  Feeble-mind  how  he  fell  into  his  hands. 

Then  said  the  poor  man,  "  I  am  a  sickly  man,  as  you  see  ;  and  because  death  did 


usuallv  once  a  day  knock  at  my  door,  I  thought  I  should  never  be  well  at    HOW 

J  .  came  to  be  a  pil- 

home  ;  so  I  betook  myself  to  a  pilgrim's  life,  and  have  travelled  hither  grim. 
from  the  town  of  Uncertain,  where  I  and  my  father  were  born.  I  am  a  man  of  no 
strength  at  all  of  body,  nor  yet  of  mind  ;  but  would,  if  I  could,  though  I  can  but  crawl, 
spend  my  life  in  the  pilgrim's  way.  When  I  came  at  the  gate  that  is  at  the  head  of 
the  way,  the  'Lord  of  that  place  did  entertain  me  freely  ;  neither  objected  he  against 
my  weakly  looks  nor  against  my  feeble  mind,  but  gave  me  such  things  as  were  neces- 
sary for  my  journey,  and  bid  me  hope  to  the  end.  When  I  came  to  the  house  of  the 
Interpreter,  I  received  much  kindness  there  ;  and  because  the  hill  of  Difficulty  was 
judged  too  hard  for  me,  I  was  carried  up  that  by  one  of  his  servants.  Indeed  I  have 
found  much  relief  from  pilgrims,  though  none  were  willing  to  go  so  softly  as  I  am 
forced  to  do  ;  yet  still  as  they  came  on  they  bid  me  be  of  good  cheer,  and  said  that  it 
was  the  will  of  their  Lord  that  comfort  should  be  given  to  the  feeble-minded,  i  Thess. 
5:14,  and  so  went  on  their  own  pace.  When  I  was  come  to  Assault-lane,  then  this 
giant  met  with  me  and  bid  me  prepare  for  an  encounter.  But  alas,  feeble  one  that  I 
was,  I  had  more  need  of  a  cordial  ;  so  he  came  up  and  took  me.  I  conceited  he  would 
not  kill  me.  Also  when  he  had  got  me  into  his  den,  since  I  went  not  with  him  will- 
ingly, I  believed  I  should  come  out  alive  again  ;  for  I  have  heard  that  not  any  pil- 
grim that  is  taken  captive  by  violent  hands,  if  he  keeps  heartwhole  Mark  tins! 
towards  his  Master,  is,  by  the  laws  of  providence,  to  die  by  the  hand  of  the  enemy. 
Robbed  I  looked  to  be,  and  robbed  to  be  sure  I  am  ;  but  I  have,  as  you  see,  escaped 
with  life,  for  the  which  I  thank  my  King  as  the  author  and  you  as  the  means.  Other 
brunts  I  also  looked  for  ;  but  this  I  have  resolved  on,  to  wit,  to  run  when  Mark  this  i 
I  can,  to  go  when  I  cannot  run,  and  to  creep  when  I  cannot  go.  As  to  the  main,  I 


THE  FATE  OF  MR.  NOT-RIGHT.  289 

thank  Him  that  loved  me,  I  am  fixed ;  my  way  is  before  me,  my  mind  is  beyond  the 
river  that  has  no  bridge,  though  I  am,  as  you  see,  but  of  a  feeble  mind." 

Then  said  old  Mr.  Honest,  "  Have  not  you,  some  time  ago,  been  acquainted  with 
one  Mr.  Fearing,  a  pilgrim  ?" 

FEEBLE.  Acquainted  with  him  ?    Yes  ;  he  came  from  the  town  of  Stupidity,  which 

lieth  four  degrees  to  the  northward  of  the  city  of  Destruction,  and  as  many  off  of 

Mr.  rearing  is  where  I  was  born.     Yet  we  were  well  acquainted,  for  indeed  he  was  my 

Mr.  Feeble-mind's  <•     1        >      1          1  TT-IT-I 

uncie.  uncle,  my  father  s  brother.     He  and  I  have  been  much  of  a  temper ;  he 

was  a  little  shorter  than  I,  but  yet  we  were  much  of  a  complexion. 
Feeble-mind  has  HON.  I  perceive  you  knew  him,  and  I  am  apt  to  believe  also  that 

some  of  Mr.  Fear-  «..*•. 

ing's  features.  you  were  related  one  to  another ;  for  you  have  his  whitely  look,  a  cast 
like  his  with  your  eye,  and  your  speech  is  much  alike. 

FEEBLE.  Most  have  said  so  that  have  known  us  both ;  and  besides,  what  I  have 
read  in  him  I  have  for  the  most  part  found  in  myself. 

cams  comforts  "  Come,  sir,"  said  good  Gaius,  "be  of  good  cheer;  you  are  welcome 

him-  to  me  and  to  my  house.     What  thou  hast  a  mind  to,  call  for  freely  ;  and 

what  thou  wouldest  have  my  servants  do  for  thee,  they  will  do  it  with  a  ready 
mind." 

Then  said  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  "  This  is  an  unexpected  favor,  and  as  the  sun  shining 

Notice  to  be  ta-  out  °^  a  verY  dark  cloud.      Did  giant  Slay-good  intend  me  this  favor 

ken  or  providence.  when  ;he  stopped  me  and  resolved  to  let  me  go  no  further?     Did  he 

intend  that  after  he  had  rifled  my  pockets  I  should  go  to  Gaius  my  host?    Yet  so 

it  is." 

Tidings  how  one         Now,  just  as  Mr.  Feeble-mind  and  Gaius  were  thus  in  talk,  there  came 

Not-right  was  slain  .............  . 

by  a  thunderbolt,  one  running  and  called  at  the  door  and  said  that  about  a  mile  and  a  half 
off  there  was  one  Mr.  Not-right,  a  pilgrim,  struck  dead  upon  the  place  where  he  was 
with  a  thunderbolt. 

"  Alas,"  said  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  "  is  he  slain?  He  overtook  me  some  days  before  I 
came  so  far  as  hither,  and  would  be  my  company-keeper.  He  was  also  with  me  when 
Slay-good  the  giant  took  me,  but  he  was  nimble  of  his  heels  and  escaped;  but  it  seems 
he  escaped  to  die,  and  I  was  taken  to  live." 

"What  one  would  think  doth  seek  to  slay  outright, 
Ofttimes  delivers  from  the  saddest  plight. 
That  very  providence  whose  face  is  death 
Doth  ofttimes  to  the  lowly  life  bequeath. 
I  taken  was,  he  did  escape  and  flee ; 
Hands  crossed  gave  death  to  him  and  life  to  me." 

Now  about  this  time  Matthew  and  Mercy  were  married ;  also  Gaius  gave  his 
daughter  Phebe  to  James,  Matthew's  brother,  to  wife  ;  after  which  time  they  yet 
stayed  about  ten  days  at  Gaius'  house,  spending  their  time  and  the  seasons  like  as 
pilgrims  use  to  do. 

The  pilgrims  When  they  were  to  depart,  Gaius  made  them  a  feast,  and  they  did 

prepare  to  go  for-  .      J  J 

ward.  eat   and   drink  and  were  merry.      Now  the  hour  was  come  that  they 

37 


290  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

must  be  gone  ;  wherefore  Mr.  Great-heart  called  for  a  reckoning.  But  Gaius  told  him 
that  at  his  house  it  was  not  the  custom  for  pilgrims  to  pay  for  their  entertainment. 
He  boarded  them  by  the  year,  but  looked  for  his  pay  from  the  good  Samaritan,  who 
had  promised  him,  at  his  return,  whatsoever  charge  he  was  at  with  them,  faithfully 
to  repay  him.  Luke  10:  34,  35. 

Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart  to  him,  "  Beloved,  thou  doest  faithfully  whatsoever 
thou  doest  to  the   brethren  and  to  strangers,  who  have  borne  witness      HOW  they  greet 
of  thy  charity  before  the  church  ;  whom  if  thou  yet  bring  forward  on  parting, 
their  journey  after  a  godly  sort,  thou  shalt  do  well."     3  John  5,  6. 

Then  Gaius  took  his  leave  of  them  all,  and  his  children,  and  particu-     Gains' lastkin.i- 
larly  of  Mr.  Feeble-mind.     He  also  gave  him  something  to  drink  by  the  im'ud. 
way. 

Now  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  when  they  were  going  out  of  the  door,  made  as  if  he 
intended  to  linger.  The  which  when  Mr.  Great-heart  espied,  he  said,  "  Come,  Mr. 
Feeble-mind,  pray  do  you  go  along  with  us.  I  will  be  your  conductor,  and  you  shall 
fare  as  the  rest." 

FEEBLE.  Alas,  I  want  a  suitable  companion.  You  are  all  lusty  and  Feewe-mimi  for 
strong,  but  I,  as  you  see,  am  weak  ;  I  choose,  therefore,  rather  to  come  be-  gomg  bellintl- 
hind,  lest  by  reason  of  my  many  infirmities  I  should  be  a  burden  both  to  myself  and 
to  you.  I  am,  as  I  said,  a  man  of  weak  and  feeble  mind,  and  shall  be  Feebie-mimi's 
offended  and  weak  at  that  which  others  can  bear.  I  shall  like  no  excuseforit- 
laughing,  I  shall  like  no  gay  attire,  I  shall  like  no  unprofitable  questions.  Nay,  I 
am  so  weak  a  man  as  to  be  offended  with  that  which  others  have  a  liberty  to  do. 
I  do  not  yet  know  all  the  truth  ;  I  am  a  very  ignorant  Christian  man.  Sometimes,  if  I 
hear  some  rejoice  in  the  Lord,  it  troubles  me  because  I  cannot  do  so  too.  It  is  with 
me  as  it  is  with  a  weak  man  among  the  strong,  or  as  with  a  sick  man  among  the 
healthy,  or  as  a  lamp  despised  ;  so  that  I  know  not  what  to  do.  "  He  that  is  ready  to 
slip  with  his  feet  is  as  a  lamp  despised  in  the  thought  of  him  that  is  at  ease."  Job  12:5. 

"  But,  brother,"  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  "  I  have  it  in  commission  to  Great-heart's 
comfort  the  feeble-minded  and  to  support  the  weak.  You  must  needs  commission- 
go  along  with  us ;  we  will  wait  for  you  ;  we  will  lend  you  our  help ;  we  A  Christian  spirit, 
will  deny  ourselves  of  some  things,  both  opinionative  and  practical,  for  your  sake ;  we 
will  not  enter  into  doubtful  disputations  before  you;  we  will  be  made  all  things  to 
you,  rather  than  you  shall  be  left  behind."  i  Thess.  5  :  14;  Rom.  14;  i  Cor.  8:9-13  ; 
9:22. 

Now  all  this  while  they  were  at  Gaius'  door ;  and  behold,  as  they  were  thus  in 
the  heat  of  their  discourse,  Mr.  Ready-to-halt  came  by  with  his  crutches  in  his  hand, 
and  he  also  was  going  on  pilgrimage. 

Then  said  Mr.  Feeble-mind  to  him,  "  Man,  how  earnest  thou  hither  ?  I  was  but 
now  complaining  that  I  had  not  a  suitable  companion,  but  thou  art  Feewe-mind  giaci 

to    see    Ready-to- 

according  to  my  wish.     Welcome,  welcome,  good  Mr.  Ready-to-halt ;   I  halt  come, 
hope  thou  and  I  may  be  some  help." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  of  thy  company,"  said  Ready-to-halt ;  "  and,  good  Mr.  Feeble- 


RATHER  THAN  WE  WILL  PART  I  WILL  LEND  THEE  ONE  OF  MY  CRUTCHES 


292  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

mind,  rather  than  we  will  part,  since  we  are  thus  happily  met,  I  will  lend  thee  one  of 
my  crutches." 

"  Nay,"  said  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  "  though  I  thank  thee  for  thy  good-will,  I  am  not 
inclined  to  halt  before  I  am  lame.  Howbeit  I  think,  when  occasion  is,  it  may  help 
me  against  a  dog." 

READY.  If  either  myself  or  my  crutches  can  do  thee  a  pleasure,  we  are  both  at 
thy  command,  good  Mr.  Feeble-mind. 

Thus,  therefore,  they  went  on.  Mr.  Great-heart  and  Mr.  Honest  went  before, 
Christiana  and  her  children  went  next,  and  Mr.  Feeble-mind  came  behind,  and  Mr. 
Ready-to-halt  with  his  crutches. 

Then  said  Mr.  Honest,  "  Pray,  sir,  now  we  are  upon  the  road,  tell  us       New  talk. 
some  profitable  things  of  some  that  have  gone  on  pilgrimage  before  us." 

GREAT.  With  a  good  will.  I  suppose  you  have  heard  how  Christian  of  old  did 
meet  with  Apollyon  in  the  valley  of  Humiliation,  and  also  what  hard  work  he  had  to 
go  through  the  valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death.  Also  I  think  you  cannot  but  have 
heard  how  Faithful  was  put  to  it  by  Madam  Wanton,  with  Adam  the  First,  with  one 
Discontent,  and  Shame — four  as  deceitful  villains  as  a  man  can  meet  with  upon  the 
road. 

HON.  Yes,  I  have  heard  of  all  this ;  but  indeed,  good  Faithful  was  hardest  put  to 
it  with  Shame  ;  he  was  an  unwearied  one. 

GREAT.  Ay ;  for,  as  the  pilgrim  well  said,  he  of  all  men  had  the  wrong  name. 

HON.  But  pray,  sir,  where  was  it  that  Christian  and  Faithful  met  Talkative  ?  That 
same  was  also  a  notable  one. 

GREAT.  He  was  a  confident  fool ;  yet  many  follow  his  ways. 

HON.  He  had  like  to  have  beguiled  Faithful. 

GREAT.  Ay,  but  Christian  put  him  into  a  way  quickly  to  find  him  out. 

Thus  they  went  on  till  they  came  to  the  place  where  Evangelist  met  with  Chris- 
tian and  Faithful  and  prophesied  to  them  what  should  befall  them  at  Vanity  Fair. 
Then  said  their  guide,  "  Hereabouts  did  Christian  and  Faithful  meet  with  Evangelist, 
who  prophesied  to  them  of  what  troubles  they  should  meet  with  at  Vanity  Fair." 

HON.  Say  you  so  ?  I  dare  say  it  was  a  hard  chapter  that  then  he  did  read  unto 
them. 

GREAT.  It  was  so,  but  he  gave  them  encouragement  withal.  But  what  do  we  talk 
of  them  ?  They  were  a  couple  of  lion-like  men ;  they  had  set  their  faces  like  a 
flint.  Do  not  you  remember  how  undaunted  they  were  when  they  stood  before  the 
judge  ? 

HON.  Well.     Faithful  bravely  suffered. 

GREAT.  So  he  did,  and  as  brave  things  came  on  't ;  for  Hopeful  and  some  others, 
as  the  story  relates  it,  were  converted  by  his  death. 

HON.  Well,  but  pray  go  on  ;  for  you  are  well  acquainted  with  things. 

GREAT.  Above  all  that  Christian  met  with  after  he  had  passed  through  Vanity 
Fair,  one  By-ends  was  the  arch  one. 

HON.  By-ends  ?    What  was  he  ? 


AT  THE  HOUSE  OF  MNASON.  293 

GREAT.  A  very  arch  fellow,  a  downright  hypocrite ;  one  that  would  be  religious 
whichever  way  the  world  went,  but  so  cunning  that  he  would  be  sure  never  to  lose 
or  suffer  for  it.  He  had  his  mode  of  religion  for  every  fresh  occasion,  and  his  wife 
was  as  good  at  it  as  he.  He  would  turn  from  opinion  to  opinion  ;  yea,  and  plead  for  so 
doing  too.  But  so  far  as  I  could  learn,  he  came  to  an  ill  end  with  his  by-ends ;  nor  did 
I  ever  hear  that  any  of  his  children  were  ever  of  any  esteem  with  any  that  truly 
feared  God. 
They  come  with-  Now  by  this  time  they  were  come  within  sight  of  the  town  of  Vanitv 

in  siglit  of  Vanity  .  .      .  J ' 

Fair.  where  Vanity  Fair  is  kept.  So  when  they  saw  that  they  were  so  near  the 

town  they  consulted  with  one  another  how  they  should  pass  through  the  town ;  and 
some  said  one  thing  and  some  another. 

At  last  Mr.  Great-heart  said,  "  I  have,  as  you  may  understand,  often  been  a  conduc- 
tor of  pilgrims  through  this  town.  Now  I  am  acquainted  with  one  Mr.  Mnason,  Acts 
21  :  1 6,  a  Cyprusian  by  nation,  an  old  disciple,  at  whose  house  we  may  lodge.  If  you 
think  good,  we  will  turn  in  there." 

"  Content,"  said  Old  Honest. 

"  Content,"  said  Christiana. 

"  Content,"  said  Mr.  Feeble-mind ;  and  so  they  said  all. 

Now  you  must  think  it  was  eventide  by  that  they  got  to  the  outside  of  the  town ; 

but  Mr.  Great-heart  knew  the  way  to  the  old  man's  house.    So  thither  they  came ;  and 

They  enter  into  he  called  at  the  door,  and  the  old  man  within  knew  his  tongfue  as  soon  as 

one  Mr.  Mnason's 

to  lodge.  ever  he  heard  it;  so  he  opened  the  door,  and  they  all  came  in. 

Then  said  Mnason  their  host,  "  How  far  have  you  come  to-day  ?" 

So  they  said,  "  From  the  house  of  Gaius  our  friend." 

"  I  promise  you,"  said  he,  "  you  have  gone  a  good  stitch.  You  may  well  be  weary; 
sit  down."  So  they  sat  down. 

Then  said  their  guide,  "  Come,  what  cheer,  good  sirs  ?  I  dare  say  you  are  welcome 
to  my  friend." 

"  I  also,"  said  Mr.  Mnason,  "  do  bid  you  welcome ;  and  whatever  you  want,  do  but 
say,  and  we  will  do  what  we  can  to  get  it  for  you." 
They  are  giad  of          HON.  Our  great  want,  a  while  since,  was  harbor  and  good  company, 

entertainment.         and  nQW  j  hope  we  haye  both> 

MNA.  For  harbor,  you  see  what  it  is ;  but  for  good  company,  that  will  appear  in 
the  trial. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  "  will  you  have  the  pilgrims  up  into  their  lodging?" 

"  I  will,"  said  Mr.  Mnason.  So  he  had  them  to  their  respective  places ;  and  also 
showed  them  a  very  fair  dining-room,  where  they  might  be  and  sup  together  until 
the  time  should  come  to  go  to  rest. 

Now,  when  they  were  seated  in  their  places,  and  were  a  little  cheery  after  their 
journey,  Mr.  Honest  asked  his  landlord  if  there  was  any  store  of  good  people  in  the 
town. 

MNA.  We  have  a  few;  for  indeed  they  are  but  a  few  when  compared  with  them 
on  the  other  side. 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

HON.  But  how  shall  we  do  to  see  some  of  them  ?  for  the  sight  of  The  desire  to 
good  men  to  them  that  are  going  on  pilgrimage  is  like  the  appearing  of  |oodSpeopie°or  file 
the  moon  and  stars  to  them  that  are  sailing  upon  the  seas.  town> 

Then  Mr.  Mnason  stamped  with  his  foot  and  his  daughter  Grace  came  up.  So  he 
said  unto  her,  "Grace,  go  you,  tell  my  friends,  Mr.  Contrite,  Mr.  Holy-  some  sent  for. 
man,  Mr.  Love-saints,  Mr.  Dare-not-lie,  and  Mr.  Penitent,  that  I  have  a  friend  or  two 
at  my  house  who  have  a  mind  this  evening  to  see  them."  So  Grace  went  to  call 
them  and  they  came ;  and  after  salutation  made,  they  sat  down  together  at  the 
table. 

Then  said  Mr.  Mnason  their  landlord,  "  My  neighbors,  I  have,  as  you  see,  a  com- 
pany of  strangers  come  to  my  house  ;  they  are  pilgrims ;  they  come  from  afar,  and  are 
going  to  Mt.  Zion.  But  who,"  quoth  he,  "  do  you  think  this  is  ?"  pointing  his  finger 
to  Christiana.  "  It  is  Christiana,  the  wife  of  Christian,  the  famous  pilgrim  who,  with 
Faithful  his  brother,  was  so  shamefully  handled  in  our  town." 

At  that  they  stood  amazed,  saying,  "  We  little  thought  to  see  Christiana  when 
Grace  came  to  call  us ;  wherefore  this  is  a  very  comfortable  surprise."  Then  they 
asked  her  of  her  welfare,  and  if  these  young  men  were  her  husband's  sons.  And 
when  she  had  told  them  they  were,  they  said,  "  The  King  whom  you  love  and  serve 
make  you  as  your  father,  and  bring  you  where  he  is  in  peace." 

Then  Mr.  Honest,  when  they  were  all  sat  down,  asked  Mr.  Contrite       some  talk  be- 

_     .,  i.  •          1  j.1  tween  Mr.  Honest 

and  the  rest  in  what  posture  their  town  was  at  present.  and  Mr.  contrite. 

CON.  You  may  be  sure  we  are  full  of  hurry  in  fair-time.     'T  is  hard  keeping  our 
hearts  and  spirits  in  good  order  when  we  are  in  a  cumbered  condition.        The  fruit  of 
He  that  lives  in  such  a  place  as  this  is,  and  has  to  do  with  such  as  we  watchfumess- 
have,  has  need  of  an  item  to  caution  him  to  take  heed  every  moment  of  the  day. 

HON.  But  how  are  your  neighbors  now  for  quietness  ? 

CON.  They  are  much  more  moderate  now  than  formerly.  You  know  Persecution  not 
how  Christian  and  Faithful  were  used  at  our  town ;  but  of  late,  I  say,  Mr  M  formerly. y 
they  have  been  far  more  moderate.  I  think  the  blood  of  Faithful  lieth  as  a  load  upon 
them  till  now ;  for  since  they  burned  him  they  have  been  ashamed  to  burn  any  more. 
In  those  days  we  were  afraid  to  walk  the  streets ;  but  now  we  can  show  our  heads. 
Then  the  name  of  a  professor  was  odious ;  now,  especially  in  some  parts  of  our  town 
(for  you  know  our  town  is  large),  religion  is  counted  honorable. 

Then  said  Mr.  Contrite  to  them,  "  Pray,  how  fareth  it  with  you  in  your  pilgrim- 
age? How  stands  the  country  affected  towards  you?" 

HON.  It  happens  to  us  as  it  happeneth  to  wayfaring  men.  Sometimes  our  way  is 
clean,  sometimes  foul ;  sometimes  up  hill,  sometimes  down  hill ;  we  are  seldom  at  a 
certainty.  The  wind  is  not  always  on  our  backs,  nor  is  every  one  a  friend  that  we  meet 
with  in  the  way.  We  have  met  with  some  notable  rubs  already,  and  what  are  yet 
behind  we  know  not ;  but  for  the  most  part  we  find  it  true  that  has  been  talked  of 
old,  "  A  good  man  must  suffer  trouble." 

CON.  You  talk  of  rubs ;  what  rubs  have  you  met  withal  ? 

HON.  Nay,  ask  Mr.  Great-heart,  our  guide ;  for  he  can  give  the  best  account  of  that 


THEIR  STA  Y  AT  VANITY  FAIR.  295 

GREAT.  We  have  been  beset  three  or  four  times  already.  First,  Christiana  and 
her  children  were  beset  by  two  ruffians  who  they  feared  would  take  away  their  lives. 
We  were  beset  by  giant  Bloody-man,  giant  Maul,  and  giant  Slay-good.  Indeed,  we 
did  rather  beset  the  last  than  were  beset  by  him.  And  thus  it  was :  after  we  had 
been  some  time  at  the  house  of  Gains  my  host,  and  of  the  whole  church,  we  were 
minded  upon  a  time  to  take  our  weapons  with  us,  and  go  see  if  we  could  light  upon 
any  of  those  that  are  enemies  to  pilgrims ;  for  we  heard  that  there  was  a  notable  one 
thereabouts.  Now  Gaius  knew  his  haunt  better  than  I  because  he  dwelt  thereabout. 
So  we  looked  and  looked,  till  at  last  we  discerned  the  mouth  of  his  cave ;  then  we 
were  glad  and  plucked  up  our  spirits.  So  we  approached  up  to  his  den ;  and  lo,  when 
we  came  there,  he  had  dragged  by  mere  force  into  his  net  this  poor  man,  Mr.  Feeble- 
mind,  and  was  about  to  bring  him  to  his  end.  But  when  he  saw  us,  supposing,  as  we 
thought,  that  he  had  another  prey,  he  left  the  poor  man  in  his  hole  and  came  out.  So 
we  fell  to  it  full  sore,  and  he  lustily  laid  about  him ;  but,  in  conclusion,  he  was  brought 
down  to  the  ground  and  his  head  cut  off  and  set  up  by  the  wayside,  for  a  terror  to 
such  as  should  after  practise  such  ungodliness.  That  I  tell  you  the  truth,  here  is  the 
man  himself  to  affirm  it  who  was  as  a  lamb  taken  out  of  the  mouth  of  the  lion. 

Then  said  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  "  I  found  this  true,  to  my  cost  and  comfort:  to  my 
cost,  when  he  threatened  to  pick  my  bones  every  moment ;  and  to  my  comfort,  when 
I  saw  Mr.  Great-heart  and  his  friends,  with  their  weapons,  approach  so  near  for  my 
deliverance." 

Then  said  Mr.  Holy-man,  "  There  are  two  things  that  they  have  need  to  possess 
MI-.  Hoiy-man's  wno  S°  on  pilgrimage — courage  and  an  unspotted  life.  If  they  have  not 
courage  they  can  never  hold  on  their  way ;  and  if  their  lives  be  loose 
they  will  make  the  very  name  of  a  pilgrim  stink." 

Then  said  Mr.  Love-saints,  "  I  hope  this  caution  is  not  needful  among  you ;  but 
Mr.  Love-saints'  truly  there  are  many  that  go  upon  the  road  who  rather  declare  them- 
speech.  selves  strangers  to  pilgrimage  than  strangers  and  pilgrims  on  the 

earth." 

Then  said  Mr.  Dare-not-lie,  "  'T  is  true.  They  have  neither  the  pilgrim's  weed 
Mr.  Dare-not-He's  nor  ^e  pilgrim's  courage ;  they  go  not  uprightly,  but  all  awry  with  their 
speech.  £ee£ .  one  s;hoe  goeth  inward,  another  outward ;  and  their  hosen  are  out 

behind:  here  a  rag  and  there  a  rent,  to  the  disparagement  of  their  Lord." 

"These  things,"  said  Mr.  Penitent,  "they  ought  to  be  troubled  for;  nor  are  the 
Mr.  penitent's  pilgrims  like  to  have  that  grace  put  upon  them,  and  their  pilgrim's 
speech.  progress  as  they  desire,  until  the  way  is  cleared  of  such  spots  and 

blemishes."  Thus  they  sat  talking  and  spending  the  time  until  supper  was  set  upon 
the  table,  unto  which  they  went  and  refreshed  their  weary  bodies:  so  they  went 
to  rest. 

Now  they  stayed  in  the  fair  a  great  while  at  the  house  of  this  Mr.  Mnason,  who 
in  process  of  time  gave  his  daughter  Grace  unto  Samuel,  Christiana's  son,  to  wife,  and 
his  daughter  Martha  to  Joseph. 

The  time,  as  I  said,  that  they  stayed  here  was  long,  for  it  was  not  now  as  in 


296  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

former  times.  Wherefore  the  pilgrims  grew  acquainted  with  many  of  the  good 
people  of  the  town  and  did  them  what  service  they  could.  Mercy,  as  she  was  wont, 
labored  much  for  the  poor,  wherefore  their  bellies  and  backs  blessed  her,  and  she  was 
there  an  ornament  to  her  profession.  And  to  say  the  truth  for  Grace,  Phebe,  and 
Martha,  they  were  all  of  a  very  good  nature  and  did  much  good  in  their  places. 
They  were  also  all  of  them  very  fruitful,  so  that  Christian's  name,  as  was  said  before, 
was  like  to  live  in  the  world. 

While  they  lay  here,  there  came  a  monster  out  of  the  woods  and  slew  many  of  the 
people  of  the  town.     It  would  also  carry  away  their  children  and  teach      A  monster, 
them,  to  suck  its  whelps.     Now  no  man  in  the  town  durst  so  much  as  face  this  mon- 
ster, but  all  fled  when  they  heard  the  noise  of  his  coming. 

The   monster  was  like   unto  no  one  beast  on  the  earth.      Its  body  was  like  a 
dragon  and  it  had  seven  heads  and  ten  horns.     It  made  great  havoc  of      ins  shape, 
children  and  yet  it  was  governed  by  a  woman.     Rev  17:3.    This  monster  propounded 
conditions  to  men ;  and  .such  men  as  loved  their  lives  more  than  their      HIS  nature, 
souls  accepted  of  those  conditions.     So  they  came  under. 

Now  Mr.  Great-heart,  together  with  those  who  came  to  visit  the  pilgrims  at  Mr. 
Mnason's  house,  entered  into  a  covenant  to  go  and  engage  this  beast,  if  perhaps  they 
might  deliver  the  people  of  this  town  from  the  paws  and  mouth  of  this  so  devouring  a 
serpent. 

Then  did  Mr.  Great-heart,  Mr.  Contrite,  Mr.  Holy-man,  Mr.  Dare-not-lie,  and  Mr. 
Penitent,  with  their  weapons,  go  forth  to  meet  him.     Now  the  monster  at  first  was 
very  rampant  and  looked  upon  these  enemies  with  great  disdain  ;  but       How  he  is  en_ 
they  so  belabored  him,  being  sturdy  men  at  arms,  that  they  made  him  gaged> 
make  a  retreat.     So  they  came  home  to  Mr.  Mnason's  house  again. 

The  monster,  you  must  know,  had  his  certain  seasons  to  come  out  in  and  to  make 
his  attempts  upon  the  children  of  the  people  of  the  town.  At  these  seasons  did  these 
valiant  worthies  watch  him  and  did  still  continually  assault  him ;  insomuch  that  in 
process  of  time  he  became  not  only  wounded  but  lame.  Also  he  has  not  made  that 
;  havoc  of  the  townsmen's  children  as  formerly  he  had  done  ;  and  it  is  verily  believed 
by  some  that  this  beast  will  die  of  his  wotinds. 

This,  therefore,  made  Mr.  Great-heart  and  his  fellows  of  great  fame  in  this  town ; 
so  that  many  of  the  people  that  wanted  their  taste  of  things,  yet  had  a  reverent 
esteem  and  respect  for  them.  Upon  this  account,  therefore,  it  was  that  these  pilgrims 
got  not  much  hurt  here.  True,  there  were  some  of  the  baser  sort  that  could  see  no 
more  than  a  mole  nor  understand  any  more  than  a  beast ;  these  had  no  reverence  for 
these  men  and  took  no  notice  of  their  valor  and  adventures. 


THE  JO URNE  Y  RESUMED.  297 


THE  EIGHTH  STAGE. 

WELL,  the  time  grew  on  that  the  pilgrims  must  go  on  their  way ;  wherefore  they 
prepared  for  their  journey.  They  sent  for  their  friends ;  they  conferred  with  them ; 
they  had  some  time  set  apart  therein  to  commit  each  other  to  the  protection  of  their 
Prince.  There  were  again  that  brought  them  of  such  things  as  they  had  that  were 
fit  for  the  weak  and  the  strong,  for  the  women  and  the  men,  and  so  laded  them  with 
such  things  as  were  necessary.  Acts  28:10.  Then  they  set  forward  on  their  way; 
and  their  friends  accompanying  them  so  far  as  was  convenient,  they  again  committed 
each  other  to  the  protection  of  their  King,  and  parted. 

They  therefore  that  were  of  the  pilgrims'  company  went  on  and  Mr.  Great-heart 
went  before  them.  Now,  the  women  and  children  being  weakly,  they  were  forced  to 
go  as  they  could  bear;  by  which  means  Mr.  Ready-to-halt  and  Mr.  Feeble-mind  had 
more  to  sympathize  with  their  condition. 

When  they  were  gone  from  the  townsmen,  and  when  their  friends  had  bid  them 
farewell,  they  quickly  came  to  the  place  where  Faithful  was  put  to  death.  Therefore 
they  made  a  stand  and  thanked  Him  that  had  enabled  him  to  bear  his  cross  so  well ; 
and  the  rather,  because  they  now  found  that  they  had  a  benefit  by  such  a  manly 
suffering  as  his  was. 

They  went  on  therefore  after  this  a  good  way  further,  talking  of  Christian  and 
Faithful  and  how  Hopeful  joined  himself  to  Christian  after  that  Faithful  was  dead. 

Now  they  were  come  up  with  the  hill  Lucre  where  the  silver-mine  was  which 
took  Demas  off  from  his  pilgrimage,  and  into  which,  as  some  think,  By-ends  fell  and 
perished;  wherefore  they  considered  that.  But  when  they  were  come  to  the  old 
monument  that  stood  over  against  the  hill  Lucre,  to  wit,  to  the  pillar  of  salt  that 
stood  also  within  view  of  Sodom  and  its  stinking  lake,  they  marvelled,  as  did  Christian 
before,  that  men  of  such  knowledge  and  ripeness  of  wit  as  they  were  should  be  so 
blinded  as  to  turn  aside  here.  Only  they  considered,  again,  that  nature  is  not  affected 
with  the  harms  that  others  have  met  with,  especially  if  that  thing  upon  which  they 
look  has  an  attracting  virtue  upon  the  foolish  eye. 

I  saw  now  that  they  went  on  till  they  came  to  the  river  that  was  on  this  side  of 
the  Delectable  mountains ;  to  the  river  where  the  fine  trees  grow  on  both  sides,  and 
whose  leaves,  if  taken  inwardly,  are  good  against  surfeits ;  where  the  meadows  are 
green  all  the  year  long  and  where  they  might  lie  down  safely.  Psa.  23:2. 

By  this  river-side  in  the  meadows  there  were  cotes  and  folds  for  sheep,  a  house 
built  for  the  nourishing  and  bringing  up  of  those  lambs,  the  babes  of  those  women 
that  go  on  pilgrimage.  Also  there  was  here  One  that  was  intrusted  with  them,  who 
could  have  compassion,  and  that  could  gather  these  lambs  with  his  arm  and  carry 
them  in  his  bosom,  and  gently  lead  those  that  were  with  young.  Heb.  5:2; 
Isa.  40:  ii.  Now  to  the  care  of  this  man  Christiana  admonished  her  four  daughters 
to  commit  their  little  ones,  that  by  these  waters  they  might  be  housed,  harbored, 
38 


298  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

succored,  and  nourished,  and  that  none  of  them  might  be  lacking  in  time  to  come. 
This  man,  if  any  of  them  go  astray  or  be  lost,  will  bring  them  again ;  he  will 
also  bind  up  that  which  was  broken  and  will  strengthen  them  that  are  sick.  Jer. 
23:4;  Ezek.  34:  11-16.  Here  they  will  never  want  meat,  drink,  and  clothing;  here 
they  will  be  kept  from  thieves  and  robbers,  for  this  man  will  die  before  one  of  those 
committed  to  his  trust  shall  be  lost.  Besides,  here  they  shall  be  sure  to  have  good 
nurture  and  admonition  and  shall  be  taught  to  walk  in  right  paths,  and  that  you 
know  is  a  favor  of  no  small  account.  Also  here,  as  you  see,  are  delicate  waters, 
pleasant  meadows,  dainty  flowers,  variety  of  trees,  and  such  as  bear  wholesome  fruit : 
fruit  not  like  that  which  Matthew  ate  of,  that  fell  over  the  wall  out  of  Beelzebub's 
garden ;  but  fruit  that  procureth  health  where  there  is  none  and  that  continueth  and 
increaseth  it  where  it  is.  So  they  were  content  to  commit  their  little  ones  to  him ; 
and  that  which  was  also  an  encouragement  to  them  so  to  do  was  for  that  all  this 
was  to  be  at  the  charge  of  the  King  and  so  was  as  a  hospital  to  young  children  and 
orphans. 

Now  they  went  on.  And  when  they  were  come  to  By-path  meadow,  to  the  stile 
over  which  Christian  went  with  his  fellow  Hopeful,  when  they  were  They  being  come 
taken  by  Giant  Despair  and  put  into  Doubting  Castle,  they  sat  down  and  naveya  mma  to 

y  V       J  •«.  ^.-u  have  a  pluck  with 

constilted  what  was  best  to  be  done :  to  wit,  now  they  were  so  strong,  Giant  Despair. 
and  had  got  such  a  man  as  Mr.  Great-heart  for  their  conductor,  whether  they  had  not 
best  to  make  an  attempt  upon  the  giant,  demolish  his  castle,  and  if  there  were  any  pil- 
grims in  it,  to  set  them  at  liberty  before  they  went  any  further.  So  one  said  one 
thing  and  another  said  the  contrary.  One  questioned  if  it  was  lawful  to  go  upon 
unconsecrated  ground;  another  said  they  might,  provided  their  end  was  good;  but 
Mr.  Great-heart  said,  "  Though  that  assertion  offered  last  cannot  be  universally  true, 
yet  I  have  a  commandment  to  resist  sin,  to  overcome  evil,  to  fight  the  good  fight  of 
faith ;  and,  I  pray,  with  whom  should  I  fight  this  good  fight,  if  not  with  Giant  Despair? 
I  will  therefore  attempt  the  taking  away  of  his  life  and  the  demolishing  of  Doubting 
Castle." 

Then  said  he,  "  Who  will  go  with  me  ?" 

Then  said  Old  Honest,  "  I  will." 

"And  so  will  we  too,"  said  Christiana's  four  sons,  Matthew,  Samuel,  Joseph,  and 
James;  for  they  were  young  men  and  strong,  i  John  2:  13,  14.  So  they  left  the 
women  in  the  road,  and  with  them  Mr.  Feeble-mind  and  Mr.  Ready-to-halt  with  his 
crutches  to  be  their  guard  until  they  came  back ;  for  though  in  that  place  the  giant  De- 
spair dwelt  so  near,  they  keeping  in  the  road,  a  little  child  might  lead  them.  Isa.  1 1  : 6. 

So  Mr.  Great-heart,  Old  Honest,  and  the  four  young  men  went  to  go  up  to 
Doubting  Castle  to  look  for  Giant  Despair.  When  they  came  at  the  castle  gate  they 
knocked  for  entrance  with  an  unusual  noise.  At  that  the  old  giant  comes  to  the  gate 
and  Diffidence  his  wife  follows.  Then  said  he,  "  Who  and  what  is  he  that  is  so  hardy 
as  after  this  manner  to  molest  the  giant  Despair  ?" 

Mr.  Great-heart  replied,  "  It  is  I,  Great-heart,  one  of  the  King  of  the  celestial 
country's  conductors  of  pilgrims  to  their  place ;  and  I  demand  of  thee  that  thou  open 


DOUBTING  CASTLE  DEMOLISHED. 


299 


"THEN  THEY  FELL  TO  DEMOLISHING  DOUBTING  CASTLE." 

Despair  is  loatu  Despair  was  brought  down  to 
the  ground,  but  was  very  loath 
to  die.  He  struggled  hard,  and  had,  as 
they  say,  as  many  lives  as  a  cat ;  but  Great- 
heart  was  his  death,  for  he  left  him  not 
till  he  had  severed  his  head  from  his 
shoulders. 

Then  they  fell  to  demolishing  Doubt- 
Doubting  castie  ing  Castle,  and  that,  you  know, 
might  with  ease  be  done,  since 
Giant  Despair  was  dead.  They  were. seven 
days  in  destroying  of  that,  and  in  it  of  pil- 
grims they  found  one  Mr.  Despondency, 
almost  starved  to  death,  and  one  Much- 
afraid,  his  daughter ;  these  two  they  saved 
alive.  But  it  would  have  made  you  won- 
der to  have  seen  the  dead  bodies  that  lay 
here  and  there  in  the  castle  yard,  and  how 
full  of  dead  men's  bones  the  dungeon 
was. 


thy  gates  for  my  entrance ;  prepare  thy- 
self also  to  fight,  for  I  am  come  to  take 
away  thy  head  and  to  demolish  Doubting 
Castle." 

Now  Giant  Despair,  because  he  was 
a  giant,  thought  no  man  could  overcome 
him ;  and  again  thought  he,  "  Since 

Despair  has  heretofore    I  have  made  a 

overcome      au- 

geis.  conquest    of    angels,    shall 

Great-heart  make  me  afraid?"  So  he 
harnessed  himself  and  went  out.  He 
had  a  cap  of  steel  upon  his  head,  a 
breastplate  of  fire  girded  to  him,  and  he 
came  out  in  iron  shoes  with  a  great  club 
in  his  hand.  Then  these  six  men  made 
up  to  him  and  beset  him  behind  and 
before ;  also,  when  Diffidence  the  giant- 
ess came  up  to  help  him,  old  Mr.  Hon- 
est cut  her  down  at  one  blow.  Then 
they  fought  for  their  lives,  and  Giant 


DESPONDENCY. 


300 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


When  Mr.  Great-heart  and  his  companions  had  performed  this  exploit,  they  took 
Mr.  Despondency  and  his  daughter  Much-afraid  into  their  protection  ;  for  they  were 
honest  people  though  they  were  prisoners  in  Doubting  Castle  to  that  tyrant  Giant 
Despair.  They  therefore,  I  say,  took  with  them  the  head  of  the  giant  (for  his  body 
they  had  buried  under  a  heap  of  stones),  and  down  to  the  road  and  to  their  compan- 
ions they  came  and  showed  them  what  they  had  done.  Now  when  Feeble-mind  and 
Ready-to-halt  saw  that  it  was  the  head  of  Giant  Despair  indeed,  they  were  very  jocund 
and  merry.  Now  Christiana,  if  need  was,  could  play  upon  the  viol,  and  her  daughter 

Mercy  upon  the  lute  ;  so,  since       xuey  nave  mu- 
sic   and   dancing 
they  were  so  merry  disposed,  for  joy. 

she  played  them  a  lesson,  and  Ready-to- 
halt  would  dance.  So  he  took  Despond- 
ency's daughter  Much-afraid  by  the  hand, 
and  to  dancing  they  went  in  the  road. 
True,  he  could  not  dance  without  one 
crutch  in  his  hand,  but  I  promise  you  he 
footed  it  well;  also  the  girl  was  to  be 
commended,  for  she  answered  the  music 
handsomely. 

As  for  Mr.  Despondency,  the  music 
was  not  so  much  to  him ;  he  was  for  feed- 
ing rather  than  dancing,  for  that  he  was 
almost  starved.  So  Christiana  gave  him 
some  of  her  bottle  of  spirits  for  present 
relief  and  then  prepared  him  something 
to  eat,  and  in  a  little  time  the  old  gentle- 
man came  to  himself  and  began  to  be 
finely  revived. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  when  all 
these  things  were  finished,  Mr.  Great- 
heart  took  the  head  of  Giant  Despair  and 
set  it  upon  a  pole  by  the  highway  -  side, 

right  over  against  the  pillar  that  Christian  erected  for  a  caution  to  pilgrims  that  came 
after  to  take  heed  of  entering  into  his  grounds.    . 

Then  he  writ  under  it  upon  a  marble  stone  these  verses  following : 

"This  is  the  head  of  him  whose  name  only 

In  former  times  did  pilgrims  terrify. 

His  castle  's  down,  and  Diffidence  his  wife 

Brave  Mr.  Great-heart  has  bereft  of  life. 

Despondency,  his  daughter  Much -afraid, 

Great-heart  for  them  also  the  man  has  played. 

Who  hereof  doubts,  if  he  '11  but  cast  his  eye 

Up  hither,  may  his  scruples  satisfy. 
•  This  head  also,  when  doubting  cripples  dance, 

Doth  show  from  fears  they  have  deliverance." 


MUCH-AFRAID. 


AT  THE  DELECTABLE  MOUNTAINS.  301 

When  these  men  had  thus  bravely  showed  themselves  against  Doubting  Castle 
and  had  slain  Giant  Despair,  they  went  forward  and  went  on  until  they  came  to  the 
Delectable  mountains,  where  Christian  and  Hopeful  refreshed  themselves  with  the 
varieties  of  the  place.  They  also  acquainted  themselves  with  the  shepherds  there, 
who  welcomed  them,  as  they  had  done  Christian  before,  unto  the  Delectable 
mountains. 

Now  the  shepherds  seeing  so  great  a  train  follow  Mr.  Great-heart  (for  with  him 
they  were  well  acquainted),  they  said  unto  him,  "  Good  sir,  you  have  got  a  goodly 
company  here;  pray,  where  did  you  find  all  these?" 

Then  Mr.  Great-heart  replied, 

"  First,  here  is  Christiana  and  her  train, 
Her  sons,  and  her  sons'  wives,  who,  like  the  wain, 
Keep  by  the  pole,  and  do  by  compass  steer 
From  sin  to  grace,  else  they  had  not  been  here. 
Next  here  's  Old  Honest  come  on  pilgrimage, 
Ready-to-halt  too,  who,  I  dare  engage, 
True-hearted  is,  and  so  is  Feeble-mind, 
Who  willing  was  not  to  be  left  behind. 
Despondency,  good  man,  is  coming  after, 
And  so  also  is  Much-afraid,  his  daughter. 
May  we  have  entertainment  here,  or  must 
We  further  go?    Let's  know  whereon  to  trust." 
v 

Then  said  the  shepherds,  "  This  is  a  comfortable  company.     You  are  welcome  to 

Their  enter-  us '  f°r  we  have  for  the  feeble  as  well  as  for  the  strong.     Our  Prince 

has  an  eye  to  what  is  done  to  the  least  of   these;   therefore    infirmity 

must  not  be  a  block  to  our  entertainment."      Matt.   25  : 40.     So  they  had  them   to 

the  palace  door  and  then  said  unto  them,  "Come  in,  Mr.  Feeble-mind;   come  in, 

Mr.  Ready-to-halt;  come  in,  Mr.  Despondency  and    Mrs.  Much-afraid  his  daughter. 

These,  Mr.  Great-heart,"  said  the  shepherds  to  the  guide,  "  we  call  in  by  name,  for 

that  they  are  most  subject  to  draw  back ;  but  as  for  you  and  the  rest  that  are  strong, 

we  leave  you  to  your  wonted  liberty." 

Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  "  This  day  I  see  that  grace  doth  shine  in  your  faces, 
A  description  anc^  tnat  you  are  my  L°r(Ts  shepherds  indeed ;  for  that  you  have  not 
or  raise  snepheras.  pUShed  these  diseased  neither  with  side  nor  shoulder,  but  have  rather 
strewed  their  way  into  the  palace  with  flowers,  as  you  should."     Ezek.  34:  21. 

So  the  feeble  and  weak  went  in  and  Mr.  Great-heart  and  the  rest  did  follow. 
When  they  were  also  set  down,  the  shepherds  said  to  those  of  the  weaker  sort,  "  What 
is  it  that  you  would  have  ?  for,"  said  they,  "  all  things  must  be  managed  here  to  the 
supporting  of  the  weak,  as  well  as  to  the  warning  of  the  unruly."  So  they  made  them 
a  feast  of  things  easy  of  digestion  and  that  were  pleasant  to  the  palate  and  nour- 
ishing ;  the  which  when  they  had  received  they  went  to  their  rest,  each  one  respect, 
ively  unto  his  proper  place. 

When  morning  was  come,  because  the  mountains  were  high  and  the  day  clear, 
and  because  it  was  the  custom  of  the  shepherds  to  show  the  pilgrims  before  their 


302 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


departure  some  rarities,  therefore,  after 
they  were  ready  and  had  refreshed  them- 
selves, the  shepherds  took  them  out  into 
the  fields  and  showed  them  first  what  they 
had  shown  to  Christian  before. 

Then  they  had  them  to  some  new 
places.  The  first  was  Mt.  Mt.  Marvel. 
Marvel,  where  they  looked  and  beheld  a 
man  at  a  distance  that  tumbled  the  hills 
about  with  words.  Then  they  asked  the 
shepherds  what  that  should  mean.  So  they 
told  them  that  that  man  was  the  son  of 
one  Mr.  Great-grace,  of  whom  you  read  in 
the  first  part  of  the  records  of  the  Pilgrim's 
Progress;  and  he  is  set  there  to  teach  pil- 
grims how  to  believe  down,  or  to  tumble 
out  of  their  ways,  what  difficulties  they 
should  meet  with,  by  faith.  Mark  1 1  :  23,  24. 
Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  "  I  know  him ; 
lie  is  a  man  above  many." 


PREJUDICE. 

Then   they  Had  them  to  Mt   Inno. 

another  place  called  Mt.  In-  cence- 
nocence.  And  there  they  saw  a  man 
clothed  all  in  white,  and  two  men,  Preju- 
dice and  Ill-will,  continually  casting  dirt 
upon  him.  Now  behold,  the  dirt,  whatso- 
ever they  cast  at  him,  would  in  a  little  time 
fall  off  again,  and  his  garment  would  look 
as  clean  as  if  no  dirt  had  been  cast  thereat. 
Then  said  the  pilgrims,  "  What  means 
this?" 

The  shepherds  answered,  "  This  man 
is  named  Godly-man,  and  this  garment  is 
to  show  the  innocency  of  his  life.  Now 
those  that  throw  dirt  at  him  are  such  as 
hate  his  well-doing ;  but,  as  you  see,  the 
dirt  will  not  stick  upon  his  clothes ;  so  it 
shall  be  with  him  that  liveth  innocently 
in  the  world.  Whoever  they  be  that 
would  make  such  men  dirty,  they  labor  all 


MARVELS  SHOWN  BY  THE  SHEPHERDS.  303 

in  vain ;  for  God,  by  that  a  little  time  is  spent,  will  cause  that  their  innocence  shall 
break  forth  as  the  light  and  their  righteousness  as  the  noonday." 

Mt.  chanty.  Then    they  took  them  and   had  them  to  Mt.  Charity,  where   they 

showed  them  a  man  that  had  a  bundle  of  cloth  lying  before  him,  out  of  which  he  cut 
coats  and  garments  for  the  poor  that  stood  about  him ;  yet  his  bundle  or  roll  of  cloth 
was  never  the  less.  Then  said  they,  "  What  should  this  be  ?" 

"  This  is,"  said  the  shepherds,  "  to  show  you  that  he  who  has  a  heart  to  give  of 
his  labor  to  the  poor  shall  never  want  wherewithal.  He  that  watereth  shall  be 
watered  himself.  And  the  cake  that  the  widow  gave  to  the  prophet  did  not  cause 
that  she  had  the  less  in  her  barrel." 

They  had  them  also  to  the  place  where  they  saw  one  Fool  and  one  Want-wit 
The  work  or  washing  an  Ethiopian  with  intention  to  make  him  white;  but  the  more 
want-wit.  they  washed  him  the  blacker  he  was.     Then  they  asked  the  shepherds 

what  that  should  mean.  So  they  told  them,  saying,  "  Thus  it  is  with  the  vile  person : 
all  means  used  to  get  such  a  one  a  good  name  shall  in  conclusion  tend  but  to  make 
him  more  abominable.  Thus  it  was  with  the  Pharisees ;  and  °o  it  shall  be  with  all 
hypocrites." 

Then  said  Mercy,  the  wife  of  Matthew,  to  Christiana  her  mother,  "  Mother,  I 
Merry  has  a  would,  if  it  might  be,  see  the  hole  in  the  hill,  or  that  commonly  called  the 

iniini    to    see   the  1111.11111  _, 

hole  in  the  urn.  By-way  to  hell.  So  her  mother  broke  her  mind  to  the  shepherds.  1  hen 
they  went  to  the  door ;  it  was  on  the  side  of  the  hill,  and  they  opened  it  and  bid  Mercy 
hearken  a  while.  So  she  hearkened  and  heard  one  saying,  "  Cursed  be  my  father  for 
holding  of  my  feet  back  from  the  way  of  peace  and  life !"  Another  said,  "  Oh,  that  I 
had  been  torn  in  pieces  before  I  had,  to  save  my  life,  lost  my  soul!"  And  another 
said,  "  If  I  were  to  live  again,  how  would  I  deny  myself  rather  than  come  to  this  place  !" 

Then  there  was  as  if  the  very  earth  groaned  and  quaked  under  the  feet  of  this 
young  woman  for  fear,  so  she  looked  white  and  came  trembling  away,  saying, 
"  Blessed  be  he  and  she  that  are  delivered  from  this  place !" 

Now  when  the  shepherds  had  shown  them  all  these  things,  then  they  had  them 

back  to  the  palace  and  entertained  them  with  what  the  house  would  afford.     But 

Mercy  longeth    Mercy,  being  a  young  and  married  woman,  longed  for  something  that  she 

ami  for  what,        gaw  there,  but  was  ashamed  to  ask.     Her  mother-in-law  then  asked  her 

what  she  ailed,  for  she  looked  as  one  not  well. 

Then  said  Mercy,  "There  is  a  looking-glass  hangs  up  in  the  dining-room  off 
which  I  cannot  take  my  mind ;  if,  therefore,  I  have  it  not,  I  think  I  shall  miscarry." 

Then  said  her  mother,  "  I  will  mention  thy  wants  to  the  shepherds,  and  they  will 
not  deny  it  thee." 

But  she  said,  "  I  am  ashamed  that  these  men  should  know  that  I  longed." 

"•  Nay,  my  daughter,"  said  she,  "  it  is  no  shame,  but  a  virtue,  to  long  for  such  a 
thing  as  that." 

So  Mercy  said,  "Then,  mother,  if  you  please,  ask  the  shepherds  if  they  are 
willing  to  sell  it." 

Now  the  glass  was  one  of  a  thousand.     It  would  present  a  man  one  way  with  his 


304  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

own  features  exactly,  and  turn  it  but  another  way  and  it  would  show  The  lass  tnc 
one  the  very  face  and  similitude  of  the  Prince  of  pilgrims  himself.  Yes,  Woraoi  Gocl- 
I  have  talked  with  them  that  can  tell,  and  they  have  said  that  they  have  seen  the 
very  crown  of  thorns  upon  his  head  by  looking  in  that  glass ;  they  have  therein  also 
seen  the  holes  in  his  hands,  his  feet,  and  his  side.  Yea,  such  an  excellency  is  there  in 
this  glass,  that  it  will  show  him  to  one  where  they  have  a  mind  to  see  him,  whether 
living  or  dead,  whether  in  earth  or  in  heaven,  whether  in  a  state  of  humiliation  or 
in  his  exaltation,  whether  coming  to  suffer  or  coming  to  reign.  James  i  :  23  ;  i  Cor. 
13  :  12  ;  2  Cor.  3  :  18. 

Christiana  therefore  went  to  the  shepherds  apart  (now  the  names  of  the  shep- 
herds were  Knowledge,  Experience,  Watchful,  and  Sincere)  and  said  unto  them, 
"  There  is  one  of  my  daughters,  a  breeding  woman,  that  I  think  doth  long  for  some- 
thing that  she  hath  seen  in  this  house ;  and  she  thinks  that  she  shall  miscarry  if  she 
should  by  you  be  denied." 

Then  said  Experience,  "  Call  her,  call  her ;  she  shall  assuredly  have  what  we  can 
help  her  to." 

So  they  called  her  and  said  to  her,  "  Mercy,  what  is  that  thing  thou  wouldest  have  ?" 

Then  she  blushed,  and  said,  "  The  great  glass  that  hangs  up  in  the  dining-room." 

So  Sincere  ran  and  fetched  it,  and  with  a  joyful  consent  it  was  given    Slie(]olll  not  iose 
her.     Then  she  bowed  her  head  and  gave  thanks  and  said,  "By  this  I  lierlonKlu8- 
know  that  I  have  obtained  favor  in  your  eyes." 

They  also  gave  to  the  other  young  women  such  things  as  they  desired,  and  to 
their  husbands  great  commendations  for  that  they  had  joined  with  Mr.  Great-heart 
in  the  slaying  of  Giant  Despair  and  the  demolishing  of  Doubting  Castle. 

About  Christiana's  neck  the  shepherds  put  a  bracelet,  and   so  did      HOW  the  siiep- 

.  .        herds    ailoru    the 

they  about  the  necks  of  her  four  daughters ;  also  they  put  ear-rings  in  pilgrims, 
their  ears  and  jewels  on  their  foreheads. 

When  they  were  minded  to  go  hence  they  let  them  go  in  peace,  but  gave  not  to 
them  those  certain  cautions  which  before  were  given  to  Christian  and  his  companion. 
The  reason  was  for  that  these  had  Great-heart  to  be  their  guide,  who  was  one  that 
was  well  acquainted  with  things  and  so  could  give  them  their  cautions  more  season- 
ably, to  wit,  even  when  the  danger  was  nigh  the  approaching.  What  cautions  Chris- 
tian and  his  companion  had  received  of  the  shepherds  they  had  also  lost  by  that  the 
time  was  come  that  they  had  need  to  put  them  in  practice.  Wherefore  here  was  the 
advantage  that  this  company  had  over  the  other. 

From  thence  they  went  on  singing,  and  they  said, 

"  Behold  how  fitly  are  the  stages  set 

For  their  relief  that  pilgrims  are  become, 
And  how  they  us  receive  without  one  let, 
That  make  the  other  life  our  mark  and  home. 

What  novelties  they  have  to  us  they  give, 
That  we,  though  pilgrims,  joyful  lives  may  live 
They  do  upon  us,  too,  such  things  bestow 
That  show  we  pilgrims  are,  where'er  we  go." 


39 


EVANGELIST  OFFERED   TO   LAY  HANDS  ON   HIM   TO   TURN    HIM    INTO   THE   WAY  AGAIN." 


306 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


THE  NINTH  STAGE. 

WHEN  they  were  gone  from  the  shepherds  they  quickly  came  to  the  place  where 
Christian  met  with  one  Turn-away  that  dwelt  in  the  town  of  Apostasy.  Wherefore 
of  him  Mr.  Great-heart  their  guide  did  now  put  them  in  mind,  saying,  "  This  is  the 
place  where  Christian  met  with  one  Turn-away,  who  carried  with  him  the  character 
of  his  rebellion  at  his  back.  And  this  I  have  to  say  concerning  this  man :  he  would 
hearken  to  no  counsel,  but  once  a-falling,  persuasion  could  not  stop  him.  HOW  one  Turn- 
When  he  came  to  the  place  where  the  cross  and  sepulchre  were,  he  did  a^LTy.11** 
meet  with  one  that  bid  him  look  there ;  but  he  gnashed  with  his  teeth  and  stamped, 
and  said  he  was  resolved  to  go  back  to  his  own  town.  Before  he  came  to  the  gate  he 
met  with  Evangelist,  who  offered  to  lay  hands  on  him  to  turn  him  into  the  way 
again ;  but  this  Turn-away  resisted  him,  and  having  done  much  despite  unto  him,  he 
got  away  over  the  wall  and  so  escaped  his  hand." 

Then  they  went  on,  and  just  at  the  place  where  Little-faith  formerly  was  robbed 
there  stood  a  man  with  his  sword  drawn  and  his  face  all  over  with  blood. 

Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  "  Who  art 
thou  ?" 

The  man  made  answer,  saying,  "  I  am 
one  whose  name   is  Valiant-for-truth.      I 
am  a  pilgrim  and  am  going  to  the  celes- 
tial city, 
my    way 

men  that  did  beset  me,  and  propounded 
unto  me  these  three  things :  First,  whether 
I  would  become  one  of  them;  second,  or 
go  back  from  whence  I  came ;  third,  or 
die  upon  the  place.  Prov.  i  :  11-14.  To 
the  first  I  answered  I  had  been  a  true 
man  for  a  long  season,  and  therefore  it 
could  not  be  expected  that  I  should  now 
cast  in  my  lot  with  thieves.  Then  they 
demanded  what  I  would  say  to  the  second. 
So  I  told  them,  the  place  from  whence  I 
came,  had  I  not  found  incommodity  there 
I  had  not  forsaken  it  at  all ;  but  finding  it 
altogether  unsuitable  to  me  and  very  un- 
profitable for  me,  I  forsook  it  for  this  way. 
Then  they  asked  me  what  I  said  to  the 
third.  And  I  told  them  my  life  cost  far 
more  dear  than  that  I  should  lightly  give  it  away.  Besides,  you  have  nothing  to  do 


NOW    as    I    Was    in        One  Valiant-for- 
truth    beset   with 

there    were    three  thieves. 


WILD-HEAD. 


VALIANT-FOR-TRL'TH. 


3o8  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

thus  to  put  things  to  my  choice  ;  wherefore  at  your  peril  be  it  if  you  meddle.  Then 
these  three,  to  wit,  Wild-head,  Inconsiderate,  and  Pragmatic,  drew  upon  me,  and  I 
also  drew  upon  them.  So  we  fell  to  it,  one  against  three,  for  the  space  of  above 
three  hours.  They  have  left  upon  rne,  as  you  see,  some  of  the  marks  of  their  valor 
and  have  also  carried  away  with  them  some  of  mine.  They  are  but  just  now  gone  ; 
I  suppose  they  might,  as  the  saying  is,  hear  your  horse  dash,  and  so  they  betook 
themselves  to  flight." 

GREAT.  But  here  was  great  odds,  three  against  one. 

"'Tis  true,"  replied  Valiant-for-truth ;  "but  little  or  more  are  nothing  to  him 
that  has  the  truth  on  his  side.  '  Though  a  host  should  encamp  against  me,'  said  one, 
Psa.  27:3,  '  my  heart  shall  not  fear ;  though  war  should  rise  agains;.  me,  in  this 
will  I  be  confident,'  etc.  Besides,"  said  he,  "  I  have  read  in  some  records  that 
one  man  has  fought  an  army,  and  how  many  did  Samson  slay  with  the  jawbone  of 
an  ass!" 

Then  said  the  guide,  "  Why  did  you  not  cry  out,  that  some  might  have  come  in 
for  your  succor  ?" 

VALIANT.  So  I  did  to  my  King,  who  I  knew  could  hear  me  and  afford  invisible 
help,  and  that  was  sufficient  for  me. 

Then  said  Great-heart  to  Mr.  Valiant-for-truth,  "Thou  hast  worthily  behaved 
thyself;  let  me  see  thy  sword."  So  he  showed  it  him. 

When  he  had  taken  it  in  his  hand  and  looked  thereon  a  while,  he  said,  "  Ha,  it  is 
a  right  Jerusalem  blade." 

VAL.  It  is  so.  Let  a  man  have  one  of  these  blades,  with  a  hand  to  wield  it 
and  skill  to  use  it,  and  he  may  venture  upon  an  angel  with  it.  He  need  not  fear  its 
holding,  if  he  can  but  tell  how  to  lay  on.  Its  edge  will  never  blunt.  It  will  cut 
flesh  and  bones  and  soul  and  spirit  and  all.  Heb.  4:12. 

GREAT.  But  you  fought  a  great  while  ;  I  wonder  you  was  not  weary. 

VAL.  I  fought  till  my  sword  did  cleave  to  my  hand ;  and  then  The  word, 
they  were  joined  together  as  if  a  sword  grew  out  of  my  arm ;  and  when  The  ratth. 
the  blood  ran  through  my  fingers,  then  I  fought  with  most  courage.  lood. 

GREAT.  Thou  hast  done  well ;  thou  hast  resisted  unto  blood,  striving  against 
sin.  Thou  shalt  abide  by  us,  come  in  and  go  out  with  us;  for  we  are  thy  com- 
panions. 

Then  they  took  him  and  washed  his  wounds,  and  gave  him  of  what  they  had,  to 
refresh  him ;  and  so  they  went  on  together. 

Now  as  they  went  on,  because  Mr.  Great-heart  was  delighted  in  him  (for  he  loved 
one  greatly  that  he  found  to  be  a  man  of  his  hands),  and  because  there  were  in  com- 
pany those  that  were  feeble  and  weak,  therefore  he  questioned  with  him  about  many 
things ;  as,  first,  what  countryman  he  was. 

VAL.  I  am  of  Dark-land ;  for  there  was  I  born,  and  there  my  father  and  mother 
are  still. 

"Dark-land?"  said  the  guide;  "doth  not  that  lie  on  the  same  coast  with  the  city 
of  Destruction?" 


CHRISTIAN'S  NAME  FAMOUS.  309 

HOW  Mr.  valiant          VAL.  Yes,  it  doth.     Now  that  which  caused  me  to  come  on  pilerrim- 

came  to  go  on  pil-  .  ,      .. 

age  was  this.     We  had  one  Mr.  Tell-true  come  into  our  parts,  and  he  told 


it  about  what  Christian  had  done,  that  went  from  the  city  of  Destruction,  namely, 
how  he  had  forsaken  his  wife  and  children  and  had  betaken  himself  to  a  pilgrim's 
life.  It  was  alSo  confidently  reported  how  he  had  killed  a  serpent  that  did  come  out 
to  resist  him  in  his  journey,  and  how  he  got  through  to  whither  he  intended.  It  was 
also  told  what  welcome  he  had  at  all  his  Lord's  lodgings,  especially  when  he  came  to 
the  gates  of  the  celestial  city  ;  "  for  there,"  said  the  man,  "  he  was  received  with  sound 
of  trumpet  by  a  company  of  shining  ones."  He  told  also  how  all  the  bells  in  the  city 
did  ring  for  joy  at  his  reception,  and  what  golden  garments  he  was  clothed  with, 
with  many  other  things  that  now  I  shall  forbear  to  relate.  In  a  word,  that  man  so 
told  the  story  of  Christian  and  his  travels  that  my  heart  fell  into  a  burning  haste  to  be 
gone  after  him  ;  nor  could  father  or  mother  stay  me.  So  I  got  from  them  and  am 
come  thus  far  on  my  way. 

GREAT.  You  came  in  at  the  gate,  did  you  not  ? 

He  begins  right.          VAL.  Yes,  yes  ;  for  the  same  man  also  told  us  that  all  would  be  noth- 
ing if  we  did  not  begin  to  enter  this  way  at  the  gate. 

Christian's  name          "  Look  you,"  said  the  guide  to  Christiana,  "the  pilgrimage  of  your 
husband,  and  what  he  has  gotten  thereby,  is  spread   abroad  far  and 
near." 

VAL.  Why,  is  this  Christian's  wife  ? 

GREAT.  Yes,  that  it  is  ;  and  these  also  are  his  four  sons. 

VAL.  What,  and  going  on  pilgrimage  too  ? 

GREAT.  Yes,  verily,  they  are  following  after. 

He  is  much  re-          VAL.  It  glads  me  at  the  heart.     Good  man,  how  joyful  will  he  be 
think  c  when  he  shall  see  them  that  would  not  go  with  him,  yet  to  enter  after 

him  in  at  the  gates  into  the  celestial  city. 

GREAT.  Without  doubt  it  will  be  a  comfort  to  him  ;  for,  next  to  the  joy  of  seeing 
himself  there,  it  will  be  a  joy  to  meet  there  his  wife  and  children. 

VAL.  But  now  you  are  upon  that,  pray  let  me  hear  your  opinion  about  it.  Some 
make  a  question  whether  we  shall  know  one  another  when  we  are  there. 

GREAT.  Do  you  think  they  shall  know  themselves  then,  or  that  they  shall  rejoice 
to  see  themselves  in  that  bliss  ?  And  if  they  think  they  shall  know  and  do  this,  why 
not  know  others  and  rejoice  in  their  welfare  also?  Again,  since  relations  are  our 
second  self,  though  that  state  will  be  dissolved  there,  yet  why  may  it  not  be  ration- 
ally concluded  that  we  shall  be  more  glad  to  see  them  there  than  to  see  they  are 
wanting  ? 

VAL.  Well,  I  perceive  whereabouts  you  are  as  to  this.  Have  you  any  more  things 
to  ask  me  about  my  beginning  to  come  on  pilgrimage  ? 

GREAT.  Yes;  were  your  father  and  mother  willing  that  you  should  become  a 
pilgrim  ? 

VAL.  Oh,  no  ;  they  used  all  means  imaginable  to  persuade  me  to  stay  at  home. 

GREAT.  Why,  what  could  they  say  against  it  ? 


3io  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

VAL.  They  said  it  was  an  idle  life ;  and  if  I  myself  were  not  in-  The  great  gtum_ 
clined  to  sloth  and  laziness,  I  would  never  countenance  a  pilgrim's  Memis'S  m  nil 
condition.  way> 

GREAT.  And  what  did  they  say  else  ? 

VAL.  Why,  they  told  me  that  it  was  a  dangerous  way ;  yea,  the  rftost  dangerous 
way  in  the  world,  said  they,  is  that  which  the  pilgrims  go. 

GREAT.  Did  they  show  you  wherein  this  way  is  so  dangerous? 

VAL.  Yes  ;  and  that  in  many  particulars. 

GREAT.  Name  some  of  them. 

VAL.  They  told  me  of  the  Slough  of  Despond,  where  Christian  was  The  flrst  stum. 
well  nigh  smothered.  They  told  me  that  there  were  archers  standing  bling-block- 
ready  in  Beelzebub-castle  to  shoot  them  who  should  knock  at  the  wicket-gate  for 
entrance.  They  told  me  also  of  the  wood  and  dark  mountains  ;  of  the  hill  Difficulty  ; 
of  the  lions ;  and  also  of  the  three  giants,  Bloody-man,  Maul,  and  Slay-good.  They 
said,  moreover,  that  there  was  a  foul  fiend  haunted  the  valley  of  Humiliation,  and 
that  Christian  was  by  him  almost  bereft  of  life.  "  Besides,"  said  they,  "  you  must  go 
over  the  valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  where  the  hobgoblins  are,  where  the  light  is 
darkness,  where  the  way  is  full  of  snares,  pits,  traps,  and  gins."  They  told  me  also  of 
Giant  Despair,  of  Doubting  Castle,  and  of  the  ruin  that  the  pilgrims  met  with  here. 
Further,  they  said  I  must  go  over  the  Enchanted  Ground,  which  was  dangerous ;  and 
that  after  all  this  I  should  find  a  river  over  which  there  was  no  bridge,  and  that 
that  river  did  lie  between  me  and  the  celestial  country. 

GREAT.  And  was  this  all  ? 

VAL.  No  ;  they  also  told  me  that  this  way  was  full  of  deceivers,  and      The  second. 
of  persons  that  lay  in  wait  to  turn  good  men  out  of  the  path. 

GREAT.  But  how  did  they  make  that  out  ? 

VAL.  They  told  me  that  Mr.  Worldly-wiseman  did  lie  there  in  wait  to  deceive. 
They  said  also  that  there  were  Formalist  and  Hypocrisy  continually  on  the  road. 
They  said  also  that  By-ends,  Talkative,  or  Demas  would  go  near  to  gather  me  up ; 
that  the  Flatterer  would  catch  me  in  his  net ;  or  that,  with  green-headed  Ignorance,  I 
would  presume  to  go  on  to  the  gate,  from  whence  he  was  sent  back  to  the  hole  that 
was  in  the  side  of  the  hill  and  made  to  go  the  by-way  to  hell. 

GREAT.  I  promise  you  this  was  enough  to  discourage  you ;  but  did  they  make  an 
end  here  ? 

VAL.  No,  stay ;  they  told  me  also  of  many  that  had  tried  that  way  of  The  third, 
old,  and  that  had  gone  a  great  way  therein,  to  see  if  they  could  find  something  of  the 
glory  there  that  so  many  had  so  much  talked  of  from  time  to  time,  and  how  they 
came  back  again  and  befooled  themselves  for  setting  a  foot  out  of  doors  in  that  path, 
to  the  satisfaction  of  all  the  country.  And  they  named  several  that  did  so,  as  Ob- 
stinate and  Pliable,  Mistrust  and  Timorous,  Turn-away  and  old  Atheist,  with  several 
more ;  who,  they  said,  had  some  of  then\  gone  far  to  see  what  they  could  find,  but 
not  one  of  them  had  found  so  much  advantage  by  going  as  amounted  to  the  weight 
of  a  feather. 


ON  THE  ENCHANTED  GROUND.  3n 

GREAT.  Said  they  anything  more  to  discourage  you  ? 

The  fourth.  VAL.  Yes;  they  told  me  of  one  Mr.  Fearing,  who  was  a  pilgrim,  and 

how  he  found  his  way  so  solitary  that  he  never  had  a  comfortable  hour  therein  ;  also, 
that  Mr.  Despondency  had  like  to  have  been  starved  therein.  Yea,  and  also  (which  I 
had  almost  forgot),  that  Christian  himself,  about  whom  there  has  been  such  a  noise, 
after  all  his  adventures  for  a  celestial  crown,  was  certainly  drowned  in  the  Black  river 
and  never  went  a  foot  further  ;  however,  it  was  smothered  up. 

GREAT.  And  did  none  of  these  things  discourage  you  ? 

VAL.  No  ;  they  seemed  but  as  so  many  nothings  to  me. 

GREAT.  How  came  that  about  ? 
eir  'stumbling-          VAL-  Wh^'  l  sti11  believed  what  Mr.  Tell-true  had  said;   and  that 


- 
carried  me  beyond  them  all. 

GREAT.  Then  this  was  your  victory,  even  your  faith. 

VAL.  It  was  so.  I  believed,  and  therefore  came  out,  got  into  the  way,  fought  all 
that  set  themselves  against  me,  and  by  believing  am  come  to  this  place. 

"Who  would  true  valor  see, 

Let  him  come  hither, 
One  here  will  constant  be, 

Come  wind,  come  weather; 
There  's  no  discouragement 
Shall  make  him  once  relent 
His  first  avowed  intent 
To  be  a  pilgrim. 

"Whoso  beset  him  round 

With  dismal  stories, 
Do  but  themselves  confound  ; 

His  strength  the  more  is. 
No  lion  can  him  fright, 
He  '11  with  a  giant  fight, 
But  he  will  have  a  right 
To  be  a  pilgrim. 

"Hobgoblin  nor  foul  fiend 

Can  daunt  his  spirit; 
He  knows  he  at  the  end 

Shall  life  inherit. 
Then  fancies  fly  away, 
He  '11  not  fear  what  men  say  ; 
He  '11  labor  night  and  day 
To  be  a  pilgrim. 

By  this  time  they  were  got  to  the  Enchanted  Ground,  where  the  air  naturally 
tended  to  make  one  drowsy.  And  that  place  was  all  grown  over  with  briers  and 
thorns,  excepting  here  and  there,  where  was  an  enchanted  arbor,  upon  which  if  a  man 
sits  or  in  which  if  a  man  sleeps,  it  is  a  question,  some  say,  whether  ever  he  shall  rise 
or  wake  again  in  this  world.  Over  this  forest,  therefore,  they  went  both  one  and 
another,  and  Mr.  Great-heart  went  before,  for  that  he  was  the  guide  ;  and  Mr.  Valiant- 


312  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

for-truth  came  behind,  being  rear-guard,  for  fear  lest  peradventure  some  fiend  or 
dragon  or  giant  or  thief  should  fall  upon  their  rear  and  so  do  mischief. 

They  went  on  here,  each  man  with  his  sword  drawn  in  his  hand ;  for  they  knew 
it  was  a  dangerous  place.  Also  they  cheered  up  one  another  as  well  as  they  could. 
Mr.  Feeble-mind  Mr.  Great-heart  commanded  should  come  up  after  him ;  and  Mr.  De- 
spondency was  under  the  eye  of  Mr.  Valiant. 

Now  they  had  not  gone  far  but  a  great  mist  and  darkness  fell  upon  them  all ;  so 
that  they  could  scarce,  for  a  great  while,  the  one  see  the  other.  Wherefore  they  were 
forced,  for  some  time,  to  feel  one  for  another  by  words ;  for  they  walked  not  by  sight. 
But  any  one  must  think  that  here  was  but  sorry  going  for  the  best  of  them  all ;  but 
how  much  worse  for  the  women  and  children,  who  both  of  feet  and  heart  were  but  ten- 
der. Yet  so  it  was  that  through  the  encouraging  words  of  him  that  led  in  the  front 
and  of  him  that  brought  them  up  behind  they  made  a  pretty  good  shift  to  wag  along. 

The  way  also  here  was  very  wearisome,  through  dirt  and  slabbiness.  Nor  was 
there  on  all  this  ground  so  much  as  one  inn  or  victualling-house  wherein  to  refresh 
the  feebler  sort.  Here,  therefore,  was  grunting  and  puffing  and  sighing,  while  one 
tumbleth  over  a  bush,  another  sticks  fast  in  the  dirt,  and  the  children  some  of  them 
lost  their  shoes  in  the  mire ;  while  one  cries  out,  "  I  am  down ;"  and  another,  "  Ho, 
where  are  you?"  and  a  third,  "The  bushes  have  got  such  fast  hold  on  me  I  think  I 
cannot  get  away  from  them." 

Then  they  came  at  an  arbor,  warm,  and  promising  much  refreshing  to  the  pil- 
grims, for  it  was  finely  wrought  above  head,  beautified  with  greens,  fur-  An  arbor  on 

the        Enchanted 

mshed  with  benches  and  settles.     It  also  had  in  it  a  soft  couch  whereon  Ground, 
the  weary  might  lean.     This,  you  must  think,  all  things  considered,  was  tempting, 
for  the  pilgrims  already  began  to  be  foiled  with  the  badness  of  the  way ;  but  there 
was  not  one  of  them  that  made  so  much  as  a  motion  to  stop  there.     Yea,  for  aught  I 
could  perceive,  they  continually  gave  so  good  heed  to  the  advice  of  their  guide,  and 
he  did  so  faithfully  tell  them  of  dangers,  and  of  the  nature  of  the  dangers  when  they 
were  at  them,  that  usually  when  they  were  nearest  to  them  they  did  most  pluck  up 
their  spirits  and  hearten  one  another  to  deny  the  flesh.     This  arbor  was     The  name  of  the 
called  The  Slothful's  Friend,  and  was  made  on  purpose  to  allure,  if  it  arbor> 
might  be,  some  of  the  pilgrims  there  to  take  up  their  rest  when  weary. 

I  saw  then  in  my  dream  that  they  went  on  in  this  their  solitary  The  diffl_ 
ground  till  they  came  to  a  place  at  which  a  man  is  apt  to  lose  his  way.  cult  to  flnd- 
Now,  though  when  it  was  light  their  guide  could  well  enough  tell  how  to  miss  those 
ways  that  led  wrong,  yet  in  the  dark  he  was  put  to  a  stand.  But  he  had  in  his 
pocket  a  map  of  all  ways  leading  to  or  from  the  celestial  city ;  wherefore  The  guifle  has  a 
he  struck  a  light  (for  he  never  goes  without  his  tinder-box  also),  and  ™gpto  or  fry0Smefhe 
takes  a  view  of  his  book  or  map,  which  bids  him  to  be  careful  in  that  city- 
place  to  turn  to  the  right  hand.  And  had  he  not  been  careful  here  to  look  in  his 
map,  they  had  all,  in  probability,  been  smothered  in  the  mud ;  for  just  a  little  before 
them,  and  that  at  the  end  of  the  cleanest  way  too,  was  a  pit,  none  knows  how  deep, 
full  of  nothing  but  mud,  there  made  on  purpose  to  destroy  the  pilgrims  in. 


MESSRS.  HEEDLESS  AND  TOO-BOLD.  313 

Then  thought  I  with  myself,  Who  that  goeth  on  pilgrimage  but  would  have 
cod's  book,     one  of  these  maps  about  him,  that  he  may  look,  when  he  is  at  a  stand, 
which  is  the  way  he  must  take  ? 

Then  they  went  on  in  this  Enchanted  Ground  till  they  came  to  where  there  was 
An  arbor  ami  another  arbor,  and  it  was  built  by  the  highway-side.     And  in  that  arbor 

two  asleep  there-      , 

in.  there  lay  two  men  whose  names  were  Heedless  and  Too-bold.  These 

two  went  thus  far  on  pilgrimage ;  but  here,  being  wearied  with  their  journey,  they 
sat  down  to  rest  themselves  and  so  fell  fast  asleep.  When  the  pilgrims  saw  them 
they  stood  still  and  shook  their  heads,  for  they  knew  that  the  sleepers  were  in  a 
pitiful  case.  Then  they  consulted  what  to  do,  whether  to  go  on  and  leave  them  in 
their  sleep,  or  to  step  to  them  and  try  to  awake  them ;  so  they  concluded  to  go  to  them 
and  awake  them,  that  is,  if  they  could ;  but  with  this  caution,  namely,  to  take  heed  that 
they  themselves  did  not  sit  down  nor  embrace  the  offered  benefit  of  that  arbor. 

So  they  went  in  and  spoke  to  the  men,  and  called  each  by  his  name,  for  the  guide 
The  pngrims  it  seems  did  know  them,  but  there  was  no  voice  nor  answer.  Then 
them.  the  guide  did  shake  them  and  do  what  he  could  to  disturb  them.  Then 

said  one  of  them,  "  I  will  pay  you  when  I  take  my  money."  At  which  the  guide 
shook  his  head.  "  I  will  fight  so  long  as  I  can  hold  my  sword  in  my  hand,"  said  the 
other.  At  that  one  of  the  children  laughed. 

Then  said  Christiana,  "  What  is  the  meaning  of  this?" 

The  guide  said,  "They  talk  in  their  sleep.  If  you  strike  them,  beat  them,  or 
Their  endeavor  whatever  else  you  do  to  them,  they  will  answer  you  after  this  fashion; 
or  as  one  of  them  said  in  old  time,  when  the  waves  of  the  sea  did  beat 
upon  him  and  he  slept  as  one  upon  the  mast  of  a  ship,  '  When  I  awake  I  will  seek  it 
yet  again.'  Prov.  23 : 34,  35.  You  know  when  men  talk  in  their  sleep  they  say 
anything,  but  their  words  are  not  governed  either  by  faith  or  reason.  There  is  an 
incoherency  in  their  words  now,  as  there  was  before  between  their  going  on  pil- 
grimage and  sitting  down  here.  This,  then,  is  the  mischief  of  it :  when  heedless 
ones  go  on  pilgrimage,  'tis  twenty  to  one  but  they  are  served  thus.  For  this 
Enchanted  Ground  is  one  of  the  last  refuges  that  the  enemy  to  pilgrims  has ;  where- 
fore it  is,  as  you  see,  placed  almost  at  the  end  of  the  way,  and  so  it  standeth  against 
us  with  the  more  advantage.  For  when,  thinks  the  enemy,  will  these  fools  be  so 
desirous  to  sit  down  as  when  they  are  weary  ?  And  when  so  like  to  be  weary  as  when 
almost  at  their  journey's  end  ?  Therefore  it  is,  I  say,  that  the  Enchanted  Ground  is 
placed  so  nigh  to  the  land  Beulah  and  so  near  the  end  of  their  race.  Wherefore  let 
pilgrims  look  to  themselves  lest  it  happen  to  them  as  it  has  done  to  these  that,  as  you 
see,  are  fallen  asleep  and  none  can  awake  them." 

Then  the  pilgrims  desired  with  trembling  to  go  forward,  only  they  prayed  their 

guide  to  strike  a  light,  that  they  might  go  the  rest  of  their  way  by  the  help  of  the 

The  light  of  the  light  of  a  lantern.     So  he  struck  a  light  and  they  went  by  the  help  of 

Word-  that  through  the  rest  of  this  way,  though  the  darkness  was  very  great. 

•me  children  ay  2  Pet  l '•  19-     But  tne  children  began  to  be  sorely  weary,  and  they  cried 

for  weariness.        out  unto  jj|m  fa^  ioveth  pilgrims  to  make  their  way  more  comfortable. 

40 


314 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


So  by  that  they  had  gone  a  little  further,  a  wind  arose  and  drove  away  the  fog,  so  the 
air  became  more  clear.  Yet  they  were  not  off,  by  much,  of  the  Enchanted  Ground ; 
only  now  they  could  see  one  another  better  and  the  way  wherein  they  should  walk. 

Now  when  they  were  almost  at  the  end  of  this  ground,  they  perceived  that  a 
little  before  them  was  a  solemn  noise  as  of  one  that  was  much  concerned.  standfast  up- 
So  they  went  on  and  looked  before  them,  and  behold  they  saw,  as  they  ^e  "is  KnStS 
thought,  a  man  upon  his  knees  with  hands  and  eyes  lifted  up,  and  G 
speaking,  as  they  thought,  earnestly  to  One  that  was  above.  They  drew  nigh,  but 
could  not  tell  what  he  said ;  so  they  went  softly  till  he  had  done.  When  he  had  done 
he  got  up  and  began  to  run  towards  the  celestial  city. 

Then  Mr.  Great-heart  called  after  him,  saying,  "  So-ho,  friend,  let  us  have  your 
company,  if  you  go,  as  I  suppose  you  do,  to  the  celestial  city."  So  the  man  stopped 
and  they  came  up  to  him. 

But  as  soon  as  Mr.  Honest  saw  him,  he  said,  "  I  know  this  man." 

Then  said  Mr.  Valiant-for-truth,  "  Prithee,  who  is  it?" 

"  It  is  one,"  said  he,  "  that  comes  from  whereabout  I  dwelt.  His  The  story  of 
name  is  Standfast;  he  is  certainly  a  right  good  pilgrim." 

So  they  came  up  to  one  another,  and  presently  Standfast  said  to  Old  Honest, 
"Ho,  Father  Honest,  are  you  there?"  Talk  between 

Standfast  and  Mr. 

"Ay,"  said  he,  "  that  I  am,  as  sure  as  you  are  there.  Honest. 

"  Right  glad  am  I,"  said  Mr.  Standfast,  "  that  I  have  found  you  on  this  road." 

"And  as  glad  am  I,"  said  the  other,  "  that  I  espied  you  on  your  knees." 

Then  Mr.  Standfast  blushed,  and  said,  "  But  why,  did  you  see  me?" 

"  Yes,  that  I  did,"  quoth  the  other,  "  and  with  my  heart  was  glad  at  the  sight." 

"  Why,  what  did  you  think  ?"  said  Standfast. 

"Think,"  said  Old  Honest,  "what  could  I  think?  I  thought  we  had  an  honest 
man  upon  the  road  and  therefore  should  have  his  company  by-and-by." 

"  If  you  thought  not  amiss,"  said  Standfast,  "  how  happy  am  I !  But  if  I  be  not 
as  I  should,  'tis  I  alone  must  bear  it." 

"That  is  true,"  said  the  other,  "but  your  fear  doth  further  confirm  me  that 
things  are  right  between  the  Prince  of  pilgrims  and  your  soul.  For  he  saith, 
'  Blessed  is  the  man  that  feareth  always.'  "  Prov.  28  :  14. 

VAL.  Well,  but,  brother,  I  pray  thee  tell  us  what  was  it  that  was  the      They  founil  him 
cause  of  thy  being  upon  thy  knees  even  now.     Was  it  for  that  some  atPrayer- 
special  mercy  laid  obligations  upon  thee,  or  how  ? 

STAND.  Why,  we  are,  as  you  see,  upon  the  Enchanted  Ground ;  and  as  I  was 
coming;  along:  I  was  musing;  with  myself  of  what  a  dangerous  nature  the  what  it  was  that 

fetched  him  upon 

road  in  this  place  was,  and  how  many  that  had  come  even  thus  far  on  his  knees, 
pilgrimage  had  here  been  stopped  and  been  destroyed.  I  thought  also  of  the  manner 
of  the  death  with  which  this  place  destroyeth  men.  Those  that  die  here  die  of  no 
violent  distemper :  the  death  which  such  die  is  not  grievous  to  them.  For  he  that 
goeth  away  in  a  sleep  begins  that  journey  with  desire  and  pleasure.  Yea,  such 
acquiesce  in  the  will  of  that  disease. 


"SHB   STILL   FOLLOWED   ME    WITH    ENTICEMENTS. 


316  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

Then  Mr.  Honest,  interrupting  him,  said,  "  Did  you  see  the  two  men  asleep  in 
the  arbor?" 

STAND.  Ay,  ay,  I  saw  Heedless  and  Too-bold  there,  and  for  aught  I  know  there 
they  will  lie  till  they  rot.  Prov.  10:7.  But  let  me  go  on  with  my  tale.  As  I  was 
thus  musing,  as  I  said,  there  was  one  in  very  pleasant  attire,  but  old,  who  presented 
herself  to  me  and  offered  me  three  things,  to  wit,  her  body,  her  purse,  and  her  bed. 
Now  the  truth  is  I  was  both  weary  and  sleepy.  I  am  also  as  poor  as  an  owlet,  and 
that  perhaps  the  witch  knew.  Well,  I  repulsed  her  once  and  again,  but  she  put  by 
my  repulses  and  smiled.  Then  I  began  to  be  angry,  but  she  mattered  that  nothing 
at  all.  Then  she  made  offers  again,  and  said  if  I  would  be  ruled  by  her  she  would 
make  me  great  and  happy ;  "for,"  said  she,  " I  am  the  mistress  of  the  world,  and  men 
are  made  happy  by  me."  Then  I  asked  her  name,  and  she  told  me  it  Madam  Rubble 
was  Madam  Bubble.  This  set  me  further  from  her,  but  she  still  followed  or  thi8  vain  worl<3: 
me  with  enticements.  Then  I  betook  me,  as  you  saw,  to  my  knees,  and  with  hands 
lifted  up  and  cries  I  prayed  to  Him  that  had  said  he  would  help.  So  just  as  you 
came  up  the  gentlewoman  went  her  way.  Then  I  continued  to  give  thanks  for  this 
my  great  deliverance,  for  I  verily  believe  she  intended  no  good,  but  rather  sought  to 
make  stop  of  me  in  my  journey. 

HON.  Without  doubt  her  designs  were  bad.  But  stay,  now  you  talk  of  ner,  me- 
thinks  I  either  have  seen  her  or  have  read  some  story  of  her. 

STAND.  Perhaps  you  have  done  both. 

HON.  Madam  Bubble  ?  Is  she  not  a  tall,  comely  dame,  somewhat  of  a  swarthy 
complexion  ? 

STAND.  Right,  you  hit  it ;  she  is  just  such  a  one. 

HON.  Doth  she  not  speak  very  smoothly,  and  give  you  a  smile  at  the  end  of  a 
sentence  > 

STAND.  You  fall  right  upon  it  again,  for  these  are  her  very  actions. 

HON.  Doth  she  not  wear  a  great  purse  by  her  side,  and  is  not  her  hand  often  in 
it,  fingering  her  money  as  if  that  was  her  heart's  delight  ? 

STAND.  'T  is  just  so ;  had  she  stood  by  all  this  while,  you  could  not  more  amply 
have  set  her  forth  before  me  nor  have  better  described  her  features. 

HON.  Then  he  that  drew  her  picture  was  a  good  limner,  and  he  that  wrote  of  her 
said  true. 

GREAT.  This  woman  is  a  witch,  and  it  is  by  virtue  of  her  sorceries  The  world, 
that  this  ground  is  enchanted.  Whoever  doth  lay  his  head  down  in  her  lap  had  as 
good  lay  it  down  on  that  block  over  which  the  axe  doth  hang ;  and  whoever  lay  their 
eyes  upon  her  beauty  are  counted  the  enemies  of  God.  This  is  she  that  maintaineth 
in  their  splendor  all  those  that  are  the  enemies  of  pilgrims.  Jas.  4 : 4.  Yea,  this  is 
she  that  hath  bought  off  many  a  man  from  a  pilgrim's  life.  She  is  a  great  gossiper ; 
she  is  always,  both  she  and  her  daughters,  at  one  pilgrim's  heels  or  another,  now 
commending  and  then  preferring  the  excellences  of  this  life.  She  is  a  bold  and  im- 
pudent slut ;  she  will  talk  with  any  man.  She  always  laugheth  poor  pilgrims  to  scorn, 
but  highly  commends  the  rich.  If  there  be  one  cunning  to  get  money  in  a  place,  she 


AT  THE  LAND  OF  BEULAH.  317 

will  speak  well  of  him  from  house  to  house.  She  loveth  banqueting  and  feasting 
mainly  well ;  she  is  always  at  one  full  table  or  another.  She  has  given  it  out  in  some 
places  that  she  is  a  goddess,  and  therefore  some  do  worship  her.  She  has  her  time 
and  open  places  of  cheating ;  and  she  will  say,  and  avow  it,  that  none  can  show  a  good 
comparable  to  hers.  She  promiseth  to  dwell  with  children's  children  if  they  will  but 
love  her  and  make  much  of  her.  She  will  cast  out  of  her  purse  gold  like  dust  in  some 
places  and  to  some  persons.  She  loves  to  be  sought  after,  spoken  well  of,  and  to  lie 
in  the  bosoms  of  men.  She  is  never  weary  of  commending  her  commodities,  and  she 
loves  them  most  that  think  best  of  her.  She  will  promise  to  some  crowns  and  king- 
doms if  they  will  but  take  her  advice ;  yet  many  hath  she  brought  to  the  halter,  and 
ten  thousand  times  more  to  hell. 

"  Oh,"  said  Standfast,  "  what  a  mercy  is  it  that  I  did  resist  her ;  for  whither  might 
she  have  drawn  me  !" 

GREAT.  Whither  ?  Nay,  none  but  God  knows  whither.  But  in  general,  to  be 
sure,  she  would  have  drawn  thee  into  many  foolish  and  hurtful  lusts,  which  drown 
men  in  destruction  and  perdition,  i  Tim.  6:9.  'T  was  she  that  set  Absalom  against 
his  father,  and  Jeroboam  against  his  master.  'Twas  she  that  persuaded  Judas  to  sell 
his  Lord,  and  that  prevailed  with  Demas  to  forsake  the  godly  pilgrim's  life.  None 
can  tell  of  the  mischief  that  she  doth.  She  makes  variance  between  rulers  and 
subjects,  between  parents  and  children,  between  neighbor  and  neighbor,  between 
a  man  and  his  wife,  between  a  man  and  himself,  between  the  flesh  and  the  spirit. 
Wherefore,  good  Mr.  Standfast,  be  as  your  name  is,  and  when  you  have  done  all, 
stand. 

At  this  discourse  there  was  among  the  pilgrims  a  mixture  of  joy  and  trembling ; 
but  at  length  they  broke  out  and  sang, 

"What  danger  is  the  pilgrim  in  ! 

How  many  are  his  foes ! 
How  many  ways  there  are  to  sin 
No  living  mortal  knows. 

"Some  in  the  ditch  are  spoiled,  yea,  can 

Lie  tumbling  in  the  mire : 
Some,  though  they  shun  the  frying-pan, 
Do  leap  into  the  fire." 

After  this  I  beheld  until  they  were  come  into  the  land  of  Beulah,  where  the  sun 
shineth  night  and  day.  Here,  because  they  were  weary,  they  betook  themselves  a 
while  to  rest.  And  because  this  country  was  common  for  pilgrims,  and  because  the 
orchards  and  vineyards  that  were  here  belonged  to  the  King  of  the  celestial  country, 
therefore  they  were  licensed  to  make  bold  with  any  of  his  things.  But  a  little  while 
soon  refreshed  them  here;  for  the  bells  did  so  ring  and  the  trumpets  continually 
sound  so  melodiously  that  they  could  not  sleep,  and  yet  they  received  as  much  refresh- 
ing as  if  they  had  slept  their  sleep  ever  so  soundly. 

Here  also  all  the  noise  of  them  that  walked  the  streets  was,  "  More  pilgrims  are 
come  to  town." 


3i8  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

And  another  would  answer,  saying,  "  And  so  many  went  over  the  water  and  were 
let  in  at  the  golden  gates  to-day  !" 

They  would  cry  again,  "  There  is  now  a  legion  of  Shining  Ones  just  come  to  town, 
by  which  we  know  that  there  are  more  pilgrims  upon  the  road ;  for  here  they  come  to 
wait  for  them  and  to  comfort  them  after  all  their  sorrow." 

Then  the  pilgrims  got  up  and  walked  to  and  fro.  But  how  were  their  ears  now 
filled  with  heavenly  noises  and  their  eyes  delighted  with  celestial  visions !  In  this 
land  they  heard  nothing,  saw  nothing,  felt  nothing,  smelt  nothing,  tasted  nothing  that 
was  offensive  to  their  stomach  or  mind ;  only  when  they  tasted  of  the  wa-  Death  bitter  to 

.  the  nesli.  but  sweet 

ter  of  the  river  over  which  they  were  to  go,  they  thought  it  tasted  a  little  to  the  soui. 
bitterish  to  the  palate ;  but  it  proved  sweeter  when  it  was  down. 

In  this  place  there  was  a  record  kept  of  the  names  of  them  that  had  been  pilgrims 
of  old,  and  a  historv  of  all  the  famous  acts  that  they  had  done.  It  was  Death  has  its 

J  ,  ebbinps  and  low- 

here  also  much  discoursed  how  the  river  to  some  had  had  its  flowings,  ings,  like  the  tide. 

and  what  ebbings  it  has  had  while  others  have  gone  over.  It  has  been  in  a  manner 
dry  for  some,  while  it  has  overflowed  its  banks  for  others. 

In  this  place  the  children  of  the  town  would  go  into  the  King's  gardens  and 
gather  nosegays  for  the  pilgrims,  and  bring  them  to  them  with  much  affection.  Here 
also  grew  camphor,  with  spikenard  and  saffron,  calamus  and  cinnamon,  with  all  the 
trees  of  frankincense,  myrrh  and  aloes,  with  all  chief  spices.  With  these  the  pil- 
grims' chambers  were  perfumed  while  they  stayed  here ;  and  with  these  were  their 
bodies  anointed,  to  prepare  them  to  go  over  the  river  when  the  time  appointed  was 
come. 

Now  while  they  lay  here  and  waited  for  the  good  hour,  there  was  a  noise  in  the 
town  that  there  was  a  post  come  from  the  celestial  city  with  matter  of  A  messenger  of 

.  death      seat      to 

great  importance  to  one  Christiana,  the  wife  of  Christian  the  pilgrim.  Christiana. 
So  inquiry  was  made  for  her,  and  the  house  was  found  out  where  she  was.     So  the 
post  presented    her  with   a  letter.      The   contents  were,   "Hail,   good     ms message, 
woman;    I  bring  thee  tidings  that  the  Master  calleth  for  thee,  and  expecteth  that 
thou   shouldst  stand  in    his    presence  in  clothes  of  immortality   within   these   ten 
days." 

When  he  had  read  this  letter  to  her  he  gave  her  therewith  a  sure  token 
that  he  was  a  true  messenger,  and  was  come  to  bid  her  make  haste  to  be  gone. 
The  token  was  an  arrow  with  a  point  sharpened  with  love,  let  easily  into  her  heart, 
which  by  degrees  wrought  so  effectually  with  her  that  at  the  time  appointed  she 
must  be  gone. 

When  Christiana  saw  that  her  time  was  come,  and  that  she  was  the  How  weiCOme 
first  of  this  company  that  was  to  go  over,  she  called  for  Mr.  Great-heart  SStoVSoSS 

.,  ,  ,   .        ..  to  do  but  to  die. 

her  guide,  and  told  him  how  matters  were. 

So  he  told  her  he  was  heartily  glad  of  the  news,  and  could  have  been  glad  had 
the  post  come  for  him. 

Then  she  bid  him  that  he  should  give  advice  how  all  things  should       Her  speecn  w 

,  ..    .       1  her  guide. 

be  prepared  for  her  journey. 


CHRISTIANA'S  FAREWELLS. 


319 


So  he  told  her,  saying,  "Thus  and 
thus  it  must  be,  and  we  that  survive  will 
accompany  you  to  the  river-side." 

Then  she  called  for  her  children  and 
TO  her  children,  gave  them  her  blessing,  and 
told  them  that  she  had  read  with  comfort 
the  mark  that  was  set  in  their  foreheads, 
and  was  glad  to  see  them  with  her  there 
and  that  they  had  kept  their  garments  so 
white.  Lastly,  she  bequeathed  to  the  poor 
that  little  she  had,  and  commanded  her 
sons  and  daughters  to  be  ready  against 
the  messenger  should  come  for  them. 

When  she  had  spoken  these  words  to 

To  Mr.  Valiant-    her    guide    and     to    her    chi1' 

dren,  she  called  for  Mr.  Val- 
iant-for-truth,  and  said  unto  him,  "  Sir,  you 
have  in  all  places  showed  yourself  true- 
hearted  ;  be  faithful  unto  death,  and  my 
King  will  give  you  a  crown  of  life.  Rev. 
2:10.  I  would  also  entreat  you  to  have 
an  eye  to  my  children ;  and  if  at  any  time 
you  see  them  faint,  speak  comfortably  to 

them.     For  my  daughters,  my  sons'  wives,  they  have  been  faithful,  and  a  fulfilling 
of  the  promise  upon  them  will  be  their  end." 
TO  Mr.  standfast.          But  she  gave  Mr.  Standfast  a  ring. 

TO  oid  Honest.  Then  she  called  for  old  Mr.  Honest,  and  said  of  him,  "  '  Behold  an 

Israelite  indeed,  in  whom  is  no  guile !'  "     John  i  :  47. 

Then  said  he,  "  I  wish  you  a  fair  day  when  you  set  out  for  Mt.  Sion,  and  shall  be 
glad  to  see  that  you  go  over  the  river  dry-shod." 

But  she  answered,  "  Come  wet,  come  dry,  I  long  to  be  gone ;  for  however  the 
weather  is  in  my  journey,  I  shall  have  time  enough  when  I  come  there  to  sit  down 
and  rest  and  dry  me." 

TO  Mr.  Ready-          Then  came  in  that  good  man  Mr.  Ready-to-halt  to  see  her.     So  she 
to-nait.  said  to  hini)  «  Thy  travei  hitherto  has  been  with  difficulty  ;  but  that  will 

make  thy  rest  the  sweeter.  Watch,  and  be  ready ;  for  at  an  hour  when  ye  think  not 
the  messenger  may  come." 

TO  Mr.  DC-          After  him  came  Mr.  Despondency  and  his  daughter  Much-afraid,  to 

spondency  and  Ills         , 

daughter.  whom  she  said,  "  You  ought,  with  thankfulness,  for  ever  to  remember 

your  deliverance  from  the  hands  of  Giant  Despair  and  out  of  Doubting  Castle.  The 
effect  of  that  mercy  is  that  you  are  brought  with  safety  hither.  Be  ye  watchful,  and 
cast  away  fear;  be  sober,  and  hope  to  the  end." 

Then  said  she  to  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  "Thou  wast  delivered  from  the  mouth  of 


CHRISTIANA    SAW   THAT   HER    TIMK   WAS   COME. 


320  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

Giant  Slay-good,  that  thou  mightest  live  in  the  light  of  the  living  and       To  Mr  Feeble> 
see  thy  King  with  comfort.     Only  I  advise  thee  to  repent  of  thine  apt-  mind- 
ness  to  fear  and  doubt  of  his  goodness  before  he  sends  for  thee ;  lest  thou  shouldst, 
when  he  conies,  be  forced  to  stand  before  him  for  that  fault  with  blushing." 

Now  the  day  drew  on  that  Christiana  must  be  gone.     So  the  road        Her  last  day, 

.    ....        .  1  ..  .  ami  manner  of  d'e- 

was  full  of   people  to  see  her  take   her  journey.      But  behold,  all  the  parture. 
banks  beyond  the  river  were  full  of   horses  and   chariots,  which  were  come  down 
from  above  to  accompany  her  to  the  city  gate.     So  she  came  forth  and  entered  the 
river  with  a  beckon  of  farewell  to  those  that  followed  her.     The  last  words  that  she 
was  heard  to  say  were,  "  I  come,  Lord,  to  be  with  thee  and  bless  thee  !" 

So  her  children  and  friends  returned  to  their  place,  for  those  that  waited  for 
Christiana  had  carried  her  out  of  their  sight.  So  she  went  and  called  and  entered  in 
at  the  gate  with  all  the  ceremonies  of  joy  that  her  husband  Christian  had  entered 
with  before  her.  At  her  departure  the  children  wept.  But  Mr.  Great-heart  and  Mr. 
Valiant  played  upon  the  well-tuned  cymbal  and  harp  for  joy.  So  all  departed  to  their 
respective  places. 

In  process  of  time  there  came  post  to  the  town  again,  and  his  busi-  Mr  Rea(iy.to-iiait 
ness  was  with  Mr.  Ready-to-halt.  So  he  inquired  him  out,  and  said,  "  I  am  summoned- 
come  from  him  whom  thou  hast  loved  and  followed,  though  upon  crutches ;  and  my 
message  is  to  tell  thee  that  he  expects  thee  at  his  table  to  sup  with  him  in  his  king- 
dom the  next  day  after  Easter;  wherefore  prepare  thyself  for  this  journey."  Then 
he  also  gave  him  a  token  that  he  was  a  true  messenger,  saying,  "  I  have  broken  thy 
golden  bowl  and  loosed  thy  silver  cord."  Eccl.  12:6. 

After  this  Mr.  Ready-to-halt  called  for  his  fellow-pilgrims  and  told  them,  saying, 
"I  am  sent  for;  and  God  shall  surely  visit  you  also."     So  he  desired  Mr.  Valiant  to 
make  his  will.     And  because  he  had  nothing  to  bequeath  to  them  that  should  sur- 
vive him  but  his  crutches  and  his  good  wishes,  therefore  thus  he  said,     promises. 
"  These  crutches  I  bequeath  to  my  son  that  shall  tread  in  my  steps,  with     HIS  win. 
a  hundred  warm  wishes  that  he  may  prove  better  than  I  have  been."     Then  he 
thanked  Mr.  Great-heart  for  his  conduct  and  kindness,  and  so  addressed  himself  to  his 
journey. 

When  he  came  to  the  brink  of  the  river,  he  said,  "  Now  I  shall  have  no  more 
need  of  these  crutches,  since  yonder  are  chariots  and  horses  for  me  to  ride  on."     The 
last  words  he  was  heard  to  say  were,  ''Welcome,  life!"     So  he  went  his    ms  last  words. 
way. 

After  this  Mr.  Feeble-mind  had  tidings  brought  him  that  the  post  Feebie-mind 
sounded  his  horn  at  his  chamber  door.  Then  he  came  in  and  told  him,  summonea- 
saying,  "  I  am  come  to  tell  thee  that  thy  Master  hath  need  of  thee,  and  that  in  a  very 
little  time  thou  must  behold  his  face  in  brightness.  And  take  this  as  a  token  of  the 
truth  of  my  message:  'Those  that  look  out  at  the  windows  shall  be  darkened."' 
Eccles.  12:  3. 

Then  Mr.  Feeble-mind  called  for  his  friends  and  told  them  what  errand  had  been 
brought  unto  him,  and  what  token  he  had  received  of  the  truth  of  the  message.  Then 


322  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

he  said,  "  Since  I  have  nothing  to  bequeath  to  any,  to  what  purpose  He  makes  no  win. 
should  I  make  a  will  ?  As  for  my  feeble  mind,  that  I  will  leave  behind  me,  for  that 
I  shall  have  no  need  of  in  the  place  whither  I  go,  nor  is  it  worth  bestowing  upon  the 
poorest  pilgrims ;  wherefore  when  I  am  gone  I  desire  that  you,  Mr.  Valiant,  would 
bury  it  in  a  dunghill."  This  done,  and  the  day  being  come  on  which  he  was  to  de- 
part, he  entered  the  river  as  the  rest.  His  last  words  were,  "  Hold  out,  ins  last  words. 
faith  and  patience  !"  So  he  went  over  to  the  other  side. 

When  days  had  many  of  them  passed  away,  Mr.  Despondency  was  Mr  I)cspondeilCy 
sent  for ;  for  a  post  was  come  and  brought  this  message  to  him  :  "  Trem-  summoned- 
bling  man,  these  are  to  summon  thee  to  be  ready  with  the  King  by  the  next  Lord's 
day,  to  shout  for  joy  for  thy  deliverance  from  all  thy  doubtings.  And,"  said  the  mes- 
senger, "  that  my  message  is  truo,  take  this  for  a  proof ;"  so  he  gave  him  a  grasshopper 
to  be  a  burden  unto  him.  Eccles.  12:5. 

Now   Mr.  Despondency's   daughter,  whose"  name  was   Much-afraid,         IIis  llaughter 
said,  when  she  heard  what  was  done,  that  she  would  go  with  her  father.  gocs  toa 
Then  Mr.  Despondency  said  to  his  friends,  "  Myself  and  my  daughter,  you  know  what 
we  have  been,  and  how  troublesomely  we  have  behaved  ourselves  in  every  company. 
My  will  and  my  daughter's  is  that  our  desponds  and  slavish  fears  be  by       nis  win. 
no  man  ever  received,  from  the  day  of  our  departure,  for  ever ;  for  I  know  that  after 
my  death  they  will  offer  themselves  to  others.     For,  to  be  plain  with  you,  they  are 
ghosts  which  we  entertained  when  we  first  began  to  be  pilgrims,  and  could  never 
shake  them  off  after ;  and  they  will  walk  about  and  seek  entertainment  of  the  pil- 
grims ;  but  for  our  sakes  shut  the  doors  upon  them."     When  the  time  was  come  for 
them  to  depart  they  went  up  to  the  brink  of  the  river.     The  last  words     HIS  last  words, 
of  Mr.  Despondency  were,  "  Farewell,  night ;   welcome,  day !"      His  daughter  went 
through  the  river  singing,  but  none  could  understand  what  she  said. 

Then  it  came  to  pass  a  while  after  that  there  was  a  post  in  the  town  that  inquired 
for  Mr.  Honest.  So  he  came  to  the  house  where  he  was,  and  delivered  to  his  hand 
these  lines :  "  Thou  art  commanded  to  be  ready  against  this  day  seven-  Mr  Honest 

night,  to  present  thyself  before  thy  Lord  at  his  Father's  house.     And  for  suramouecl- 
a  token  that  my  message  is  true,  '  all  the  daughters  of  music  shall  be  brought  low.'  " 
Eccles.  12:4. 

Then  Mr.  Honest  called  for  his  friends  and  said  unto  them,  "  I  die,  but  shall 
make  no  will.  As  for  my  honesty,  it  shall  go  with  me ;  let  him  that  He  makes  no  win. 
comes  after  be  told  of  this."  When  the  day  that  he  was  to  be  gone  was  come,  he 
addressed  himself  to  go  over  the  river.  Now  the  river  at  that  time  overflowed  its 
banks  in  some  places ;  but  Mr.  Honest  in  his  lifetime  had  spoken  to  one  f:oo.i-conscience 

r*        J  •  i-L-j.1.  J.T  1-11  1          1-1       '      i    1        .     1   •          llcJPs    Mr  Honest 

Good-conscience  to  meet  him  there,  the  which  he  also  did,  and  lent  him  over  the  river, 
his  hand,  and  so  helped  him  over.      The  last  words  of   Mr.  Honest  were,  "  Grace 
reigns  !"     So  he  left  the  world. 

After  this  it  was  noised  abroad  that  Mr.  Valiant-for-truth  was  taken      Mr  Vaiianwor- 
with  a  summons  by  the  same  post  as  the  other,  and  had  this  for  a  token  trut"  sui"monetl- 
that  the  summons  was  true,  that  his  "  pitcher  was  broken  at  the  fountain."  Eccl.  12:6. 


MR.  STANDFAST  IS  SUMMONED.  323 

When  he  understood  it  he  called  for  his  friends  and  told  them  of  it.     Then  said 
he,  "  I  am  going  to  my  Father's ;  and  though  with  great  difficulty  I  have  got  hither, 
yet  now  I  do  not  repent  me  of  all  the  trouble  I  have  been  at  to  arrive  where  I  am. 
My  sword  I  give  to  him  that  shall  succeed  me  in  my  pilgrimage,  and  my        ins  win. 
courage  and  skill  to  him  that  can  get  it.     My  marks  and  scars  I  carry  with  me  to  be 
a  witness  for  me  that  I  have  fought  His  battles  who  will  now  be  my  rewarder."  When 
the  day  that  he  must  go  hence  was  come,  many  accompanied  him  to  the  river-side, 
into  which  as  he  went  he  said,  "  Death,  where  is  thy  sting?"     And  as  he  went  down 
deeper  he  said,  "Grave,  where  is  thy  victory?"      i  Cor.  15:55.      So  he     ms  last  words, 
passed  over,  and  all  the  trumpets  sounded  for  him  on  the  other  side. 

Then  there  came  forth  a  summons  for  Mr.  Standfast.  This  Mr.  Ml.  Standfa8t 
Standfast  was  he  whom  the  rest  of  the  pilgrims  found  upon  his  knees  in  summoned- 
the  Enchanted  Ground.  And  the  post  brought  it  him  open  in  his  hands ;  the  contents 
thereof  were  that  he  must  prepare  for  a  change  of  life,  for  his  Master  was  not  willing 
that  he  should  be  so  far  from  him  any  longer.  At  this  Mr.  Standfast  was  put  into  a  muse. 
"  Nay,"  said  the  messenger,  "  you  need  not  doubt  of  the  truth  of  my  message,  for  here 
is  a  token  of  the  truth  thereof:  '  Thy  wheel  is  broken  at  the  cistern.'  "  Eccl.  12:6. 

Then  he  called  to  him  Mr.  Great-heart,  who  was  their  guide,  and  said  He  calls  for  Mr 
unto  him,  "  Sir,  although  it  was  not  my  hap  to  be  much  in  your  good  com-  Great-heart- 
pany  during  the  days  of  my  pilgrimage,  yet,  since  the  time  I  knew  you,  HIS  speech  to  him. 
you  have  been  profitable  to  me.  When  I  came  from  home  I  left  behind  me  a  wife  and 
five  small  children ;  let  me  entreat  you,  at  your  return  (for  I  know  that  you  go  and 
return  to  your  Master's  house,  in  hopes  that  you  may  yet  be  a  conductor  to  more  of 
the  holy  pilgrims),  that  you  send  to  my  family  and  let  them  be  acquainted  with  all 
that  hath  and  shall  happen  unto  me.  Tell  them  moreover  of  my  happy  His  errand  to 
arrival  at  this  place,  and  of  the  present  and  late  blessed  condition  I  am  his  fami'y- 
in.  Tell  them  also  of  Christian  and  Christiana  his  wife,  and  how  she  and  her  children 
came  after  her  husband.  Tell  them  also  of  what  a  happy  end  she  made  and  whither 
she  is  gone.  I  have  little  or  nothing  to  send  to  my  family,  unless  it  be  prayers  and 
tears  for  them ;  of  which  it  will  suffice  that  you  acquaint  them,  if  peradventure  they 
may  prevail." 

When  Mr.  Standfast  had  thus  set  things  in  order,  and  the  time  being  come  for 
him  to  haste  him  away,  he  also  went  down  to  the  river.  Now  there  was  a  great  calm 
at  that  time  in  the  river ;  wherefore  Mr.  Standfast,  when  he  was  about  half  way  in, 
stood  a  while  and  talked  with  his  companions  that  had  waited  upon  him  thither.  And 
he  said,  "This  river  has  been  a  terror  to  many;  yea,  the  thoughts  of  it  His  last  words, 
also  have  often  frightened  me ;  but  now  methinks  I  stand  easy ;  my  foot  is  fixed  upon 
that  on  which  the  feet  of  the  priests  that  bore  the  ark  of  the  covenant  stood  while  Is- 
rael went  over  Jordan.  Josh.  3:17.  The  waters  indeed  are  to  the  palate  bitter  and  to 
the  stomach  cold ;  yet  the  thoughts  of  what  I  am  going  to,  and  of  the  convoy  that  waits 
for  me  on  the  other  side,  do  lie  as  a  glowing  coal  at  my  heart.  I  see  myself  now 
at  the  end  of  my  journey ;  my  toilsome  days  are  ended.  I  am  going  to  see  that 
head  which  was  crowned  with  thorns  and  that  face  which  was  spit  upon  for  me. 


324 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


I  have  formerly  lived  by  hearsay  and  faith;  but  now  I  go  where  I  shall  live  b) 
sight,  and  shall  be  with  Him  in  whose  company  I  delight  myself.  I  have  loved  to 
hear  my  Lord  spoken  of ;  and  wherever  I  have  seen  the  print  of  his  shoe  in  the  earth, 
there  I  have  coveted  to  set  my  foot  too.  His  name  has  been  to  me  as  a  civet-box ; 
yea,  sweeter  than  all  perfumes.  His  voice  to  me  has  been  mjost  sweet,  and  his  coun- 
tenance I  have  more  desired  than  they  that  have  most  desired  the  light  of  the  sun. 
His  words  I  did  use  to  gather  for  my  food  and  for  antidotes  against  my  faintings.  He 
hath  held  me  and  kept  me  from  mine  iniquities ;  yea,  my  steps  hath  he  strengthened 
in  his  way." 

Now  while  he  was  thus  in  discourse 
his  countenance  changed ;  his  strong  man 
bowed  under  him  :  and  after  he  had  said, 
"  Take  me,  for  I  come  unto  Thee,"  he 
ceased  to  be  seen  of  them. 

But  glorious  it  was  to  see  how  the 
open  region  was  filled  with  horses  and 
chariots,  with  trumpeters  and  pipers,  with 
singers  and  players  upon  stringed  instru- 
ments, to  welcome  the  pilgrims  as  they 
went  up  and  followed  one  another  in  at 
the  beautiful  gate  of  the  city. 

As  for  Christiana's  children,  the  four 
boys  that  Christiana  brought,  with  their 
wives  and  children,  I  did  not  stay  where 
I  was  till  they  were  gone  over.  Also  since 
I  came  away  I  heard  one  say  that  they 
were  yet  alive,  and  so  would  be  for  the 
increase  of  the  church  in  that  place  where 
Vhey  were,  for  a  time. 

Should  it  be  my  lot  to  go  that  way 
again,  I  may  give  those  that  desire  it  an 
account  of  what  I  here  am  silent  about ; 
meanwhile  I  bid  my  reader  FAREWELL 


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BERKELEY 

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